#yes it’s in october but i will remain giddy

[monochromemoomin]

I GOT TICKETS TO MACBETH!!!

THE DAVID TENNANT ONE

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

#i’m gonna explode #i’m so excited #yes it’s in october but i will remain giddy #david tennant #macbeth

[gryffindors-weasley]

It’s Not Living If It’s Not With You

Young!Sirius Black x Reader

Summary: After several moments having gone by of the two of you skirting around your feelings, the right time finally arises.

Word Count: 5.9k oops

Warnings: mild angst, smoking, mutual pining, fluff, kissing

It had been no secret that Sirius Black had a penchant for walking on the wild side, for being braver than most in nearly everything he’s done and will do. There were times where he had been perhaps too adventurous for his own good, but that would never stop him from continuing on with his habits. There was never a dull moment so long as he was around for it, but, over the years he’s come to realize those moments aren’t complete unless one person in particular is there to share them with. You.

October 19, 1977

You stood at the base of the carpeted stairs with your arms crossed over your chest, lips parted as you tried your hardest to mull over the words just spoken to you. The offer just given to you that required an answer of approval; anything other than yes simply wouldn’t be accepted. That would be downright ridiculous.

“On a what?” You ask once you’d thought about it for a few seconds, unsure if you’d even heard him correctly and immediately hushed for your nearly too loud tone of surprise.

Sirius stood before you with a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth as he tucked his hair behind his ear, a chunk falling back in his face. His smile was far more than telling that he was up to no good at all, but you were beginning to realize that he hardly ever was. He lifted his hand and swirled the lone set of glimmering metallic keys around his finger, his smile only widening at the thought running through his mind.

“A drive,” he said, speaking as if it were completely and utterly normal to be taking his best friends’ fathers car without permission. As if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

A laugh fell past his lips upon seeing your mouth open and close a few times in confusion, in contemplation, head tilted and brows furrowed as you looked up at him curiously. “You are planning on taking Mr. Potter’s beloved car?”

He nods, “yes, Y/n/n, that’s the one.”

“And you’re planning on dragging me along to get in the inevitable trouble you’ll be getting into once he sees it’s missing?”

“That’s the idea, yes,” he smiles.

You squint up at him and meet his gray gaze, his own stare holding something akin to mischief as he was rapidly growing more antsy and impatient by the second with your hesitancy. You turn and look over your shoulder, peering into the living room just mere paces away from where the two of you had stood in the Potter household. Mr. Potter had been reclined in his favorite chair as a miscellaneous television show had been playing, fast asleep with that morning’s paper in his lap and his glasses halfway down his nose. The setting sun had been spilling through the open blinds, casting stripes of orange on the walls as a lamp on an end table illuminated the room.

Mrs. Potter had taken her knitting elsewhere to avoid her husband’s very obvious snoring, presumably tucked away comfortably in their bedroom and would likely remain there except to wake her husband should he not be in bed by ten o’clock. James hadn’t come home yet, having been out in the town with Lily. Time never seemed to exist when he was with her, always finding himself returning home far past curfew to be teased by Sirius for being too lovestruck for his own good. Though, it was something James had readily fired back because he too was just as in love even though he’d denied it.

So, needless to say, Sirius was bored and itching to get out of the house.

You turned back to him with pursed lips, his brow raised in anticipation as he rocked back and forth from his heels to his toes.

“Why do I feel like this isn’t the first time you’ve done this?” You ask, voice just above a whisper.

“Oh, come on.” His eye roll is immediate as he grabs your hand, tugging you out of the door with a smile on his lips. You tried not to let your cheeks burn at the feel of his hand in yours, the hand that had yet to let go as he looked back and smiled at you. “And no, it’s not the first time.”

It was your turn to roll your eyes now as he let go of your hand in favor of opening your door with a dramatic wave of his hand to gesture towards your seat, nearly walking into the hood of the pristine car from being far too busy sending you a smile. He makes up for it as he hops over the door and into the driver’s seat with ease, flashing you a smile as he puts the keys in the ignition.

He pauses for a few seconds seemingly not of his own accord, momentarily taken by the way the setting sun glimmers on your skin and sparkles in your eyes. By the way you’re smiling at him even when he’s being a complete idiot who trips over his own two feet because he’s too busy doing exactly what he is doing in the current moment. Staring.

He often wonders how he manages to stay so collected around you, exchanging his fond feelings for charm and witty comebacks to your even wittier quips. But clearly, so clearly his attempts to appear so collected were rapidly crumbling around him with each passing second he spends staring at you. Though even so, he finds he doesn’t have it in him to cut it out.

“Well, are we going to drive or wait for Mr. Potter to catch us?” You tease, pinching his chin gently in your hand to further your taunting. “If you take a picture it just might last longer.”

He rolls his eyes and puts the car in gear, setting off down the road. You pretend your stomach isn’t a mess of butterflies at the way he’d been gazing, you try to keep your mind from playing into the flurry of possibilities of what it might mean. But absolutely nothing could stop the way your cheeks burned as a result, but the wind in your hair was easy to focus on, the wind pressing on your palms as you stuck your hands above you.

Sirius let out a holler as he sped off down the countryside, the breeze sifting through his hair as your brief moment of shared smiles only added to the exhilaration you felt having taken the car without permission. As he turned the radio up to an ever familiar classic rock song.

Yeah, it was totally worth it.

March 7, 1978

The common room was filled with giddy gryffindors and colored team flags that night, half of them still cheery over the outstanding victory of the quidditch team earlier that evening. Still dressed in their jerseys, their faces still painted red and yellow. The other half were having just as much fun as an endless amount of laughter filters through the room and bounces off its stone walls.

James, of course, had been amongst the happiest—it was his team that had won after all. And Lily had fallen close behind him, her fond gaze set on her lover as much as she would beg to differ. Remus was just happy to be there in the moment with his best friends, his smile near constant much like everyone else in the room.

Everything was a haze of gryffindor colors; red pillows scattered on the floor from those who’d stood on the couches, ruffled tapestries along the walls. The latest hits from Queen and ABBA had been playing on repeat as everyone in the room had been having the night of their lives in the name of victory, good natured fun filling boisterously in the cozy space. It was a good night really, but everyone you’d hoped to be there wasn’t in attendance, the one person you found yourself wanting to see most wasn’t there.

Sirius.

He’d disappeared shortly after the match, one he’d sat through with merely half as much enthusiasm as he’d usually had in support of one of his best friends. Of course he’d made it a priority to congratulate him on his winning, he always had and he always will, but you were quick to realize even amongst the bustling crowd of cheerful teens that he hadn’t made it back to the common room with the rest of the group.

It was entirely too easy to tell when he wasn’t around, it always was. Things had lacked a certain light, a certain energy only his charisma could bring forth in anywhere he’d gone. It wasn’t far off to say that he’d been important to your tight knit group of friends; he was chaotic, he was rebellious, he was Sirius.

You had barely gone ten minutes in that party before you found yourself slipping from the common room in search of your best friend. You knew just where to find him as you navigated the dimly moonlit corridors with purpose in your stride, the music still ringing in your ears despite your otherwise quiet surroundings. He was rather predictable to the select few who knew him almost better than he knew himself, but you still held hope in your heart that he’d be just where you’d felt he’d run off to as you climbed the spiral staircase.

You were right.

A soft smile tugged at the corner of your mouth when your gaze fell upon the raven haired boy, his dimpled chin in his palm as he sat alone. His gaze was set on the stars above, glimmering bright and high in the sky in the perfect view given from the astronomy tower. You sighed softly at the sight of him before you, shoulders slumping a bit as you approach him.

“The party is downstairs, you know,” you spoke lightheartedly, moving to sit down with him and nudging him with your elbow when you did so. “It happens to be one of our last here.”

“I’m not really in the partying mood, Y/n/n,” he grumbles with a soft huff, his gaze focused ahead of him and his jaw clenching. Though he finds himself nudging you knee with his moments later in hopes that it’d soften the accidental harshness of his tone. He hadn’t meant to sound so irritated, especially not with you.

You sigh softly, your eyes dropping to where he’d been continuously picking at a hole in the knee of his jeans before lifting to him once more. You were certain you knew just what was plaguing his mind for the entirety of the day, at least that long and possibly more. It wasn’t uncommon for him to linger on the past and rightfully so, but you decided against speaking further on the subject as a smile pulls at the corners of your mouth.

“Are you ever?” You jest, making light of the brooding expression on his face.

He finally looks at you then, his eyes narrowed in a gray stare at your words as he tries his very hardest to stifle his smile. “Have you come to bother me, Y/n?”

You shoved at his shoulder lightly as your mouth fell agape in only half surprise at his words, laughter leaving your lips nonetheless as you squinted up at him. “Sirius Orion Black, I wholeheartedly believe it is my job to bother you.”

He rolls his eyes then, a scoff sounding and soon to be followed by the laugh leaving his lips as he shook his head. “Well I’m wholeheartedly convinced that you’re doing a wonderful job.”

His quip is as lighthearted as your own as you share a look of scrunched noses and faux frowns, ones that fade into soft smiles as you bring yourself to look away before your cheeks burn redder than the crimson shirt you’d been wearing. Unbeknownst to you, and something that he doesn’t plan to shed any light on, he was grateful for the lack of proper lighting otherwise you just might see the matching shade of red on his face. Something only ever achievable by you even if you hadn’t known it.

Your mingled laughter had quieted as you sat with him, and you couldn’t help but to steal another glance in his direction. His lingering smile was evident even as strands of black hair splayed across his cheek from where they’d once been tucked behind his ear. One that just minutes before was far from making its appearance when he’d sat there by himself and drowned in the gravity of his past leading up to this point.

His closest friends had never failed to bring out the absolute best in him, something he found himself immensely grateful to have. To be able to be loyal to people he knows will always want what is best for him. But as he sits there, no longer alone as he had been in that tower for a short while, he’s with the one person he had hoped would come looking for him. The one person always stuck on his mind and he knows you always will be.

You found it in yourself to look away from your best friend just a little too late as you bit the inside of your cheek, having known he’d caught your stare but too prideful to check and make sure he really had. Instead, you drop your head to rest on his shoulder and grab his hand with a squeeze, the softest of reminders that you were there. It was an action that made his heart flutter and race all the same.

“Eager to hold my hand, Y/n?” He teases, his charm making its reappearance.

You lift your head and release his hand with a poorly attempted glare, holding his gaze only briefly before you fell back into your previous position. “You really do make it terribly hard to tolerate, do you know that, Sirius?”

His smile widens as your words, his laughter sounding once more.

“Well, I wholeheartedly believe it is my job to do so,” he states, repeating your earlier choice of words as he rests his head atop yours.

“And I’m wholeheartedly convinced you’re doing a wonderful job.”

He nudges your foot with his converse in response, cheek still pressed to the top of your head as he laughs when you do the same. You really were something else entirely and he knew that, you were witty and fierce and entirely too extraordinary for him to begin to fathom. He’s quiet for a moment as he thinks things over, as he enjoys your company and the way you chose to leave the fun of the party in favor of finding him. Yeah, he still can never believe it. He’s quiet for a few more moments as he mulls over his next words.

“I didn’t say you had to let go of my hand,” he mumbles, tossing it out as a suggestion he hopes you understood the point of.

He didn’t have to wonder too long as your hand soon slips in his once more, thumbs crossing over and fingertips curling over the backs of your clasped hands. A softer smile is shared but unseen, and he’s quickly reminded that a moment like this is much better than being by himself, than being at a celebratory party.

June 19, 1979

The lake. It was a meeting spot to rival all others the very moment your group of friends had first laid eyes on it. The discovery was entirely accidental, something stumbled upon in an attempt to find the absolute perfect spot to camp. In fact, it was so perfect that James had tied one of his old shirts around a tree branch for future visits, to unofficially claim it as your own. It was absolutely incredible and seemingly unknown to most anyone else which you found next to impossible—it was too amazing not to be. But, whenever the trip was made, which was more often than not, no one else had ever been there to spoil the fun.

Clusters of wildflowers and dozens upon dozens of trees lined the perimeter of the open water, each one a different height than the last but all extraordinarily beautiful in their own way. Those very trees were also perfect for tucking yourself against with your favorite book at the moment, the right amount of shade to combat the summer sun so long as you’ve got a blanket to sit on.

“Do you think they’ll ever get tired of throwing each other in the water?” Lily asks, a smile on her lips as she shakes her head.

You follow her gaze to the sight ahead of you, Sirius over James’ shoulder having had his fate set in stone as he’s thrown into the lake with an unceremonious landing. You watched as he rose to the surface, mouth agape in shock at the completely expected action as he’s quick to cast an aguamenti spell in his best friend’s direction. It wasn’t until his gaze fell upon you that you found it the right time to look away, his smile too distracting for your own good as your cheeks burned at the brief moment. One that most certainly did not go unnoticed by a very intelligent Lily Evans.

You were fairly positive that there wasn’t a single thing that could get past her, especially not the very obliviously in love friends she’s got. It wasn’t exactly hard to tell either, she’s sure that a complete stranger could even see it if they’d spent merely five minutes in the same room with the top of you. Your rosy cheeks and unbreakable smile were telling enough of that very fact, a reaction most always elicited by the dark haired goofball not far away.

“No, I don’t think they will,” you finally manage once you realize you hadn’t answered her yet. Your gaze darts to her once more and her eyes are already cast on you, her brow raised and the corner of her mouth quirked up. “What?”

She rolls her eyes, a laugh falling from her lips as she shakes her head once more. “You really are terrible at hiding your feelings, you know.”

Your mouth falls open slightly as your brows furrow, a scoff sounding as if she’d been entirely absurd. “Feelings? Don’t be ridiculous, Lily.”

“Then I suppose you’re blushing just for the fun of it, you’re smiling over absolutely nothing?” She says, getting up from her checkered blanket and walking backwards away from you.

“And where are you going?”

“Seems like someone can’t stay away from you!” She jests rushing off towards James after tossing a wink your way, leaving you to frown and scoff once more.

It wasn’t until you pulled your gaze from her that you understood what she was getting at, the very one in question making his way undoubtedly towards you. Your eyes rolled as you bit the inside of your cheek to contain your grin, your grip on your book clutching tighter as he approached you.

“You better not be looking to throw me in the lake,” you state, brow raised as you cross one ankle over the other.

“Are you going to read all day, Y/n?” He asks, snatching the sunglasses from the top of your head just to see your frown. His grin only became more teasing at the very audible huff leaving your lips at the action.

“Perhaps I just might be able to if you stop distracting me,” you quip, frowning as you watch the smile on his lips widen.

“Then I guess that’s just too bad,” he counters, fully realizing what you had just said in that moment as a smirk appears. “Wait a minute, I’m distracting?”

You shake your head and bite back your smile again as he sits the red framed sunglasses on his nose and roots around in his shoe, pulling out a cigarette and a lighter he kept tucked in there when he wasn’t wearing them much to your obvious dismay. And as if it weren’t already terribly obvious that he’d known of said feelings, his laughter before even seeing your expression was telling enough of that very fact.

“Sirius,” you start, frowning as his mischievous grey stare meets yours. “I told you not to smoke near my books. One wrong move and you’ll burn the pages.”

He’s quick to laugh as he lights it, nearly choking on the smoke as he’d done so and you laughed in response to it. “Y/n, that’s most definitely impossible and you know it. Besides, when have I ever followed the rules?”

He laid his head in your lap, his raven hair splaying across your legs and dampening the corners of your book pages and you’re absolutely convinced he’d done it on purpose. They’d warped almost in an instant and you huffed, knowing immediately that getting any form of quality reading done would be next to impossible beyond that point. Not with the smoke billowing away from you or your best friend making little effort to take your mind elsewhere.

“Those shades aren’t hiding the fact that you’re staring, you know,” you say, peering down at him over the wrinkled pages of your book.

He scoffed at your accusation, though a smile still tugged at his lips as he swiped the book from your hand and took another puff from his cigarette. “Was not,” he defends, though the way the very corners of his mouth quirk up and the softest of blushes stain his cheeks, you know you’d hit the nail on the head. He lifts the cherry red glasses and looks at you, no longer attempting to fight his smile before lowering them and letting his head fall back in your lap. “I definitely was not.”

“Yeah, whatever you say,” you sigh, grinning up at the sky as you toss your book to the side. “Whatever you say.”

September 30, 1979

The wedding of James and Lily was perhaps the most special event that was shared amongst your group of friends, the most celebratory. It had been a small one; you were quite sure there weren’t more people there than you could count in both your hands, just close friends and family.

The location was nothing short of perfect and familiar; the beloved clearing by that lake you all had treasured so fondly. The trees had begun to fade from rich greens to even richer reds and oranges, the wild flowers still in full bloom regardless of the cooling temperatures as fall began to become noticeable.

This was perhaps one of the few and rare occasions everyone had dressed up, and even then you’d have to say it was rather casual compared to most weddings you could think of. But Lily and James weren’t ones to follow the norm, though Sirius had most certainly been pushing the envelope. He’d showed up in a suit of James’, his grass stained converse not failing to make their appearance to top off the otherwise perfect outfit. Lily hadn’t been exactly thrilled at the best man’s choice in shoes, but she quickly focused her attention on more pressing matters. Marrying the love of her life.

It couldn’t have been more perfect than it was, having been surrounded by the people that mattered most to everyone. Not a dry eye was left, especially not from Sirius and Remus, even more so Sirius. He’d tried his hardest to deny the fact that he was absolutely most certainly emotional over the union of two of his best friends, having cleared his throat more often than nod to rid himself of the lump within it. But no matter how hard he’d tried to play tough, it was far more obvious that he wasn’t as he read his speech.

Now, as the sun had nearly completely set and the night had begun, it was then that you found yourself reunited with the one person you always seemed to think about. The one person that had joined James and Remus in being the life of the party. Not a dull moment would ever exist so long as they were in attendance.

“Might I have this dance with you, Y/n?” He asks, a goofy smile on his lips and his hand outstretched towards you.

You rolled your eyes at his rather disheveled appearance, his once pristine suit now looking worse for wear as he’d discarded his blazer somewhere that would probably take some searching to find. The top buttons of his dress shirt had been undone, the very collar ruffled and his sleeves rolled up and wrinkled. Not to mention it was half untucked ever since he’d gotten his start on karaoke; all else had become unimportant the moment Queen had come on.

Perhaps your most favorite part of his newfound look was the black tie that disappeared from around his neck in favor of being tied around his head. Either he had no clue it was there or he simply didn’t mind the fact that it was, and your bets were on a little bit of both. His hair was a bit of a mess as it fell over the fabric on his forehead, but one thing had remained constant the entirety of that day. His smile.

“A dance?” You repeat, unable to fight your own grin as you look from his hand to his gaze.

The corners of his mouth quirk up higher than they’d been in that moment as his eyes roll. “I’ve only been waiting the whole night.”

“Is that so?” You inquire, slipping your hand in his and you’re quick to be pulled closer. Your giddy squeal of surprise had sounded amongst the boastful chatter and cheer all around you. Not to mention the same ABBA song that’d been playing for what had to be the fifth time now as per James’ request. “I had no idea you were so eager to dance with me.”

He lifts your hand to twirl you, hands clasped and arms extending as he spins himself for the fun of it. He nearly tripped over his own two feet but if it meant he’d see you smile then it made the slight embarrassment all the more worth it to him.

“There happens to be a lot you don’t know about me,” he says, brow raised as he falls as seriously as he could muster which hadn’t been very much. “A lot.”

You paused in your tracks as his hands settled on your waist, a mild look of concern flashing across his face until he saw the expression he knew so well in yours. “That is entirely untrue and you know it. In fact, I know more about you than I ever cared to.”

His eyes roll once more at your teasing as he lifts you off your feet in a lighthearted retaliation, spinning you once and twice and even a third time as the breeze washes over you and your laughter mingles amongst everyone else’s. He finds himself staring again as he sets you back on your feet, busying himself with reciting the lyrics to Waterloo as long as it means you hadn’t noticed his admiration. You seem to be far too taken by the off key singing, though you couldn’t bring yourself to ever be annoyed.

His singing dwindled and his voice lowered after a short while, his arm remained hooked around your waist save for when he’d twirled you a few more times. You tried your hardest not to play into the fact that your heart had been racing for reasons other than the dance you’d been sharing. To not dwell on the fact that his hand was in yours and his absentminded hums of music had filled the space between you. Should another Led Zeppelin song come on, everyone will simply have to be subject to more singing. Or the fading scent of his cologne that wafted your way with every movement and every gust of wind.

A laugh fell past your lips in that moment, catching his attention immediately.

“What?” He asks, amused and curious. He knows the meaning behind that laugh and he knows surely you’ve got something on your mind.

“I thought you hated ABBA,” you jest, raising your brows. He tips his head back at your comment, his hair flopping backward briefly as a groan fell from his lips. “I’m starting to believe otherwise with the way you know just about every word to every one of their songs that’s come on.”

“Must you be so observant?” He huffs.

“How could I not be?”

He scrunches his nose and mocks your words, your laughter immediate as you return the gesture.

Things fell quiet between you after that for a while then, leaving you both to bask in the music that’d since been turned down, the conversations that since lessened the more the night continued on. Leaving Sirius to think for more than a few moments about just how many hours and minutes he’d waited to dance with you. Or how you rested your head on his chest and he hoped you hadn’t heard just how heavily his heart had been beating. If you had, he’d simply just blame it on the way he’d carried on that night. The adrenaline.

He knew in the coming days and weeks and months and years, ever since the day he met you, that you’d take up the forefront of his mind and he’s yet to be proved otherwise. You’ve made yourself be the calm to his chaos, the one he will always seek out even when he doesn’t realize it. He knows as he dances with you to a song he always swore he hated that he wouldn’t trade it for the world. Not even when you tease him for knowing every lyric. Not even when you tell him he smokes too much and he knows it to be true. Not even when you put those bloody flowers in his hair. Not even when you push his buttons and argue with him for being so foolishly reckless at times. You were just as stubborn as him and he knows he’s met his match.

He doesn’t know quite when he’s known himself to be in love with you, it’s all kind of faded and muddled together. But in the current moment as minutes collect and time passes with the laughter of his friends and newfound family, with you, he knows he’s got what he needs.

“Sirius?” You ask softly, curiously after a while, your gaze falling upon him.

“Yes?”

He finds himself tucking your hair behind your ear, the tips of his fingers tracing over your flushed cheek. He was very much aware of the heat rising in your face at the action, very aware without the need to see it in the glow of the moon. Because there’s this thing you do each and every time you’re flustered, he’s noticed, and each time you look away and smile. You smile and purse your lips and it’s become painfully obvious to him that you were always trying to fight the crimson in your cheeks.

“Have you really wanted to dance with me all night?” You finally say, your smile soft as your eyes nearly sparkled in the moonlit glow you stood under.

A soft laugh leaves his lips as he himself looked away, knowing that habit of yours he knew so very well had rubbed off on him. But he turns back to you, eyes gray and full of something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. “Yes, Y/n. It’s always you that I want to dance with.”

You try your hardest to ignore the flutter in your heart at his words, to contain the butterflies in your stomach. The way he’d looked at you, a certain sincerity in his words and a certain something in his gaze making it near impossible to think straight. The way he looked, goofy and the embodiment of utter chaos—it had you unable to look at just anything else. Though you will admit, as of late it’s always seemed to be rather hard to look anywhere else for more than a few moments so long as Sirius had been close by.

So, as you stood there half-dancing to the melody of a song you hadn’t fully been paying attention to, you find yourself focused on him. Without second thought you lift your hand, grasping the tie around his head softly to you with the fabric between your fingers. He looked absolutely ridiculous and that was for certain, ruffles of black hair dusting his shoulders as that very tie tickled over his nose with every gust of wind. His cheeks were a bit rosy from the energy he put forth that evening you presumed, unaware that a good bit of it had been caused by you.

You tuck the charcoal colored fabric behind his ear, a laugh falling from your lips and mischief dancing in your eyes that told him surely you’d had something on your mind.

“Then I believe it is my duty to tell you that you really are the worst dancer.” There it is.

He pulls you closer, his laughter puffing against your skin as your own continues giddily. “And who’s to say I wasn’t just trying to give you a chance?”

You bite the inside of your cheek to stifle another bout of giggles, you refuse to give him that satisfaction. But the closeness between the two of you had proven to be far more effective in shutting you up as his nose nudged against your own. He couldn’t bring himself to refrain from resting his forehead on yours in a matter of moments, his lashes fluttering and mingling with yours. Your heart hammered in your chest yet felt calm all the same, as if this was exactly where you were meant to be. You knew it was.

“Well,” you start, voice soft as he smiles softly, more so when you accidentally step on the toes of his grass stained converse. “Then I’d say that was awfully nice of you.”

The scrunched noses and soft laughter you share only lingers for mere fleeting moments before his lips brush over yours, featherlight and hesitant. But it was then that you lean on your toes and kiss him fully, his hand squeezing yours as his smile presses against your lips as you continue to sway together. Never mind the three friends of yours watching that very moment with the largest of grins and maybe some teary eyes from James. Never mind Lily high-fiving Remus before extending their hands to James to collect their bet money. You were kissing your best friend, the raven haired wizard that never failed to get on your nerves in the best of ways. The one that could bring life into any room he’d walked into.

“Does this mean you love me too?” He asks, eyes crinkling from his grin and laughter immediate, “Because that would really be awfully embarrassing if—”

“Yes, I love you,” you laugh against his lips to shut him up, closing the space between you once more. “I love you.”

In that moment as he kissed you, as the tips of his fingers brushed across your cheek and the light of the moon washed over you, he knew. It has been you that ignites every moment into the light that it is, the one he finds he can’t ever stop thinking of.

It’s not living if it’s not with you.

—

Tags: @anchoeritic @gxtitobxby @vogueweasley @ch0colatefr0gs @amourtentiaa @hahee154hq @snitches-at-dawn @dracosathenaeum @harrysweasleys @awritingtree @writeroutoftime

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black fic #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black oneshot #sirius black fluff #sirius black imagine

[emsylcatac]

What the future holds, we'll never know

Summary

Marinette didn't know what the future was made of—but the glimpse of the one featuring her akumatised partner she had seen taught her one thing: she and Chat Noir should never be together.

Which currently wasn't really a problem considering that she was in love with Adrien, and that they had been getting closer lately.

Read it on AO3

Hiiii @ladynoirist Lisa gemini bro ♥♥♥ I was soooo happy to be your totally secret (yes pretend you never guessed it was me okay I was so subtle) santaaaa for the @mlsecretsanta !!! (also pretend we're totally in December and not in May ho ho ho! Reindeers are still roaming!)

I'm so sorry for how late I am, but I hope you'll enjoy this fic 😄

───※ ·❆· ※───

21st of January, 1h after the reveal

Marinette stood in front of the bistro door, pacing. Pretending to look at the menu, pretending to think of what to choose, pretending that everything was absolutely normal and fine and this was just a perfectly normal day.

It was, however, not normal nor fine inside her head.

She had to push that door. She was already a good half an hour late and it wouldn’t do good to make her friends wait longer—excuses were harder and harder to explain the more she shied away.

Please, don’t be here. She never thought she would hope for that. Please have your bodyguard bring you home. Your father forcing you to go home.

Please, go home by yourself and find some stupid excuse.

She would feel bad for having all these unfair hopes if she hadn't been feeling completely panicked inside.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket. Gulping, she chanced a glance at it.

Alya girl where are u?? we’re waiting to order!

Well. She couldn’t delay for much longer. Taking a deep breath, Marinette pushed the door open and scanned the room.

Please, please don’t be inside.

She wasn’t being fair, she knew that—it wasn’t his fault if she didn’t feel like facing him.

“Marinette!”

She turned in the direction of her name where Alya was waving at her, hand held up high, while Nino was grinning and—he was there.

Swallowing—though her mouth had been dry for a while now—Marinette headed towards them despite her legs screaming at her to turn around and run as fast as possible away from here.

“H-hey,” she stuttered, “sorry for...for being late.”

She sat next to Adrien (because of course she had to be seated next to him). Their eyes met for a split second and he gave her a timid smile that she couldn’t return.

“It’s fine,” Alya waved off, “the most important thing is that you’re here now! But quick, choose what you want to eat, I’m staaarving!”

She, for one, clearly wasn’t.

Adrien was giving her quick glances and she tried her best to ignore him.

It was him, it was him, it was him.

And it was oh so unfair. She picked up her menu to hide her face as tears threatened to escape  the corners of her eyes.

───※ ·❆· ※───

5th of October, 108 days before the reveal

“Try that.”

Marinette turned around, abandoning the search for her size amongst the many red skirts on the clothes rail.

Adrien was holding a tacky glittery dress, reflecting  the light of a multitude of disharmonious colours, supporting two red fabric-flowers on each shoulder straps. It was positively horrendous, the kind of clothes you wonder who would ever buy when passing in front of it in the store.

She looked up to Adrien’s innocent smile and had to bite down the disgusted expression she suspected she must have shown for a split second. She hoped he hadn’t noticed—the last thing she wanted was to offend him. Growing-up in the fashion industry didn’t make him a good judge in the field, it seemed.

“I… You want me to...to try that on?” she stammered.

He gave her a nod, humming enthusiastically.

Maybe it was the kind of dress Adrien saw on girls at fashion shows, and she just hadn't seen it before. Maybe he liked it on them.

Maybe he would find her pretty in it.

Against her better judgement (because her judgement was always lost when it came to him, wasn’t it?), Marinette stretched a hand towards the piece of clothing, gulping. She raised her eyes to his, offering a tight smile.

Adrien’s mouth twitched, and his eyes held a new mischievous glint that hadn’t been there a few seconds ago.

“You...you’re pulling my leg, aren’t you?” she said, deflating.

He burst out laughing, a genuine, happy laugh that reminded her of a certain day in the rain, and she couldn’t help but smile despite herself.

“You should have seen your face!”

He hadn't made fun of her in a while—in fact, he hadn’t laughed at her since that day, in the rain. The thought of him being comfortable enough with her to allow himself to do it again made her cheeks heat up.

“I could...I could call your bodyguard or...or your dad! Yes! I could call your dad and out you, you know!” she threatened, fighting back the nerves that always messed up her words when she spoke to him.

She wouldn’t mess up today.

It stopped Adrien momentarily and suddenly he was pleading her, begging with joined hands.

“Marinette,” he said, and he did sound serious—she would have been convinced had his eyes not looked a tad too much like a kicked puppy’s, “please, you can’t do that. Please please please please, I’m sorry for ruining your shopping day and running into you and insisting to tag along and—”

Marinette giggled. “I’ll wear it,” she said, snatching the terrible (terrible!!) dress from his hands, careful to not brush his fingers and make it awkward. “Because unlike you who’s trying to hide, I’m no coward.”

Adrien straightened up. “I’m no coward either!”

She could feel her heart beating erratically in her chest. She wasn’t nervous. She wasn’t gonna be nervous when talking to Adrien. Not again. Not this time. She could banter with him—this was known territory. Not with him though, never with him, but…

“Okay,” she crossed her arms. Her eyes scanned  the different clothing items before landing on a pink plastic fur dress on a mannequin. “Prove it.”

He choked on a laugh before grinning at her. “Oh, you’re so on.”

───※ ·❆· ※───

16th of November, 66 days before the reveal

Adrien opened his diary, ready to write down the homework of the day Mrs Bustier was dictating.

The sound of ruffling papers and rummaging in bags filled the classroom, but he tried to focus on one sound in particular, resisting the urge to smile.

Any moment now.

Just a little longer before—

A loud groan resonated from behind him, and this time he let the grin slip onto his face, thankful that she couldn’t see it.

“What’s wrong?” Alya’s whisper made its way to his ears.

“Someone drew me with a towel on the head, swimming glasses and an ugly party dress!”

Adrien couldn’t help the snort that escaped him.

Teasing Marinette, he found, was very entertaining. He didn’t know exactly when he started to feel comfortable enough to do it. Didn’t know what exactly it was that was making it deliciously familiar yet all so new—and above all, warm.

Her reaction had been worth the wait. He  silently delighted in the way she battled between raging against him and finding him hilarious (because with the way she giggled, or stammered, or even bit her lips the few times he had joked with her, before getting ahold of herself and teasing back, she had to find him hilarious, right?).

He guessed he deserved the ruler slap he received on the head.

Yes, Adrien liked her reactions, he thought while rubbing his head. He liked that new, teasing  dynamic he’d been having with her for a couple of weeks now. He liked it.

But above all, he loved—

Adrien let a soft fond smile pull at his lips when he opened his diary that evening, once seated at his desk. A drawing quickly scribbled in the margin lit up by his many computer screens welcomed him of what he assumed was a new Gabriel ad featuring him in an atrocious fur dress coloured in fluro pink highlighter.

Above all, he loved her witty and sneaky comebacks.

───※ ·❆· ※───

8th of December, 44 days before the reveal

“What are you thinking about?”

Ladybug saw a smile stretch across her partner’s lips. He let out a fond chuckle, throwing his head up towards the sky. His eyes were closed, but she could tell that he was seeing more stars that way than if they had been opened looking up at the Parisian sky. She envied him a little.

“I’m thinking,” he simply said.

And didn’t say anything after that.

She waited a little, just in case, but he remained silent. His feet dangled above the edge of the roof and he started gently swinging his legs one after the other. He let out a breathless giggle, as if he couldn’t control it, and hummed a song her ears caught only because of the wind blowing towards her.

Her heart did a somersault in her chest at the sight. She felt a weird mix of emotions, not unpleasant but not entirely enjoyable either, bittersweetness and happiness mingling together.

He did look happy—but tonight it felt like she wasn’t a part of it. That he was in his own bubble of joy, a bubble she once had complete control over but, in that instant, was slipping through her fingers. If she was being honest, it had been slowly and subtly escaping her for a while now.

He was in love, she realised. Her gaze on him softened, before she turned away from him to look towards the sky, too, and exhaled a puff of hot air that dissipated in the cold and continued to grow as she joined him in his humming, closing her eyes.

If she wasn’t the one he was shining for tonight, she would still share that moment of exhilaration with him.

Besides, she had reasons to feel giddy herself too.

───※ ·❆· ※───

29th of December, 23 days before the reveal

“Hey.” Plagg’s voice wasn’t loud enough to pull Adrien out of his reverie completely, but enough to bring the cloud he was on a little bit back down to Earth. “You’ve been staring at the ceiling for the past twenty minutes now. What’s up?”

Adrien let the thread of his lucky charm pass through his fingers, feeling the beads between them rolling from one to another. “I have?”

Plagg stayed silent for a few seconds. “Yes. Are you alright?”

Adrien chuckled. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I am.” I have been for a little while now, he didn’t say.

Suddenly, he got up, walked towards his computer, picked up his phone from his desk and opened Instagram. His fingers quickly found Marinette’s name and pressed her icon to see her latest story. He smiled as a selfie of her and Alya appeared, and played it again once it was over.

“Ah. I see.” Adrien hadn’t noticed Plagg flying above his shoulder but he couldn’t care less. “You like her?”

“I love her,” he simply corrected.

“Really?! Planning on asking her out? Sweeping her off her feet?”

Adrien shook his head, chuckling. He put his phone back on his desk and let himself fall further in his seat, pushing his feet against the desk leg to propel himself back.

Marinette, Marinette, Marinette.

“We’ll see,” he stretched his arms above his head. “We’ll see what happens and when I feel that the time is right. I don’t want to mess it up. Not this time.”

Not with her.

───※ ·❆· ※───

11th of January, 10 days before the reveal

When she found Adrien waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs that morning, blushing, a hand rubbing the back of his neck, the other holding a yellow rose with red tips on the petals and stammering a simple yet powerful “I think I love you”, Marinette was glad she had been on time for school for once.

───※ ·❆· ※───

21st of January, 1h before the reveal

“I can’t believe you made me wake up at eight o’clock on a Saturday morning,” Marinette shook her head.

Adrien laughed and held her hand tighter as he pulled her along with him, striding alongside the Seine. “But you have to admit that it was worth it.”

Spending time with you is worth the world, she thought. I could wake up at five if that’s what you wanted. She didn’t say any of that out loud. They had only barely started dating, after all. It could scare him off.

Instead, she let half a smile pull at her lips. “I suppose.”

Adrien stopped in his tracks and turned to her. “It was worth it! It just snowed during the night—for once! It’s so rare, we have to enjoy it! And the sunrise was beautiful!”

She crossed her arms, pretending to think about it and evaluate her morning.

“It was,” Adrien insisted, pleaded for her to agree.

“Fine,” she conceded, giggling. “It was beautiful. I’m glad you forced me out of bed.”

She was rewarded by a brilliant smile, that melted her heart despite the cold January air on her cheeks, and a kiss on her forehead (that melted her whole).

A giddy laugh escaped her and she couldn’t help but kiss his nose, making him giggle, the sound sweeter than the glockenspiel a busker was playing a few meters away.

Adrien’s cheeks were red when she pulled away—from the cold or from her kiss, she didn’t know, but she hoped for the latter. She decided to grab his winter hat, leaving his hair all messy on top and wide eyes of outraged shock on his face. Adrien, she had realised, really liked when she was messing with him and she berated herself for never having dared to do such a thing before.

In retaliation, he grabbed her own hat and put it on his head. “Jokes on you,” he said, “now I have a pink pompom while you have a lame black one!”

She laughed as she put his hat on her own head. He likes me, she chanted in her head. He loves me even. He loves me, he loves me, and I love him.  All was well that day. All was perfect.

“When are we meeting up with Alya and Nino for lunch, again?”

“I think we still have an hour,” Adrien replied.

It felt like nothing could disrupt their date, their day, them, really.

───※ ·❆· ※───

21st of January, the reveal

Accidents were stupid, most of the time. One second of miscalculation, one careless mistake and every neatly protected secret could be disrupted forever.

Detransforming in the same alleway was probably the stupidest, lamest and most careless way to reveal their identities, Marinette and Adrien thought, as they faced each other with wide eyes and heart beating too fast in their rib cages with their kwamis hanging incriminatingly at their side.

Marinette didn’t think. She ran.

───※ ·❆· ※───

21st of January, 1h30 after the reveal

To say the atmosphere was awkward was an understatement. They were barely glancing at each other, passing each other the salt without brushing a finger or looking where they handed it.

Marinette overfilled Adrien’s glass when pouring him some water; Adrien startled when Marinette’s hand accidentally brushed his arm while trying to clean his table up.

They were a mess.

In a way, Marinette was glad that Alya and Nino were here to provide distraction.

She just hoped they wouldn’t notice the tension between her and Adrien.

“So, how have you two lovebirds been doing? Still in the chummy-chummy phase?”

So much for that. There was an awkward silence, none of them knowing what to really say.

“Sure,” she decided to take the plunge and ate a mouthful of fries so she wouldn’t have to explain further.

Alya and Nino said nothing, looking between the two of them.

“We’ve been, uh…we went walking around the Seine this morning,” Adrien mumbled. “To see the snow and, uh…”

“Oh, that reminds me,” Marinette cut. She couldn’t believe she was managing to talk to him. “Y-your...your winter hat.”

She handed it to him and Adrien looked at it for a few seconds before taking it back, his face crumbling and disheartened.

“...Thanks. Um, here is yours, I suppose.”

Marinette closed her eyes tight as she snatched her hat from his hands, feeling nauseous all of a sudden.

Where did they stand, now? They had barely even started dating. Could they brush off the massive new developments that were their identities? Could superheroes even date?

White flashed before her eyes. Her heart did a somersault, and the nausea intensified, making her head spin.

Stupid. Idiot, superheroes couldn’t date, least of all her and Adrien.

It was unfair that she was having these thoughts now, when she still didn’t know what was going on in her head—Adrien, Chat Noir, her partner. The same… so similar yet so different.

He had given her a rose when he had confessed. It was such a Chat Noir thing to do...she should have known.

They were the same person and it was awkward and she needed time she didn’t get the luxury to have. The second she thought she had acknowledged this information, it would all come back the next with the panic accompanying it.

The silence following must have been long and heavy because Alya took in a sharp breath. “Okay. What’s going on between you two? You’ve been acting awkward since we’ve got here.”

───※ ·❆· ※───

23rd of January, 2 days after the reveal

“So, this is it?”

Adrien felt the knot in his throat tighten a little more and more as Marinette kept looking to the side, silent, avoiding his gaze. He didn’t know why he asked; he knew the answer. And he knew that hearing it would cut like a knife, but maybe that’s what he needed instead of foolishly pretending there was hope.

“This...this is it,” she finally said in a breath.

He swallowed. “Okay.”

“Okay,” she repeated.

“I… okay.” Okay. Because what could he say? It wasn’t like he could decide for her.

If it was only on him, of course he wouldn’t want anything to end. Of course he would fight for them, and try and see where they’d go, identities be damned because...well, it was still them, wasn’t it? Wasn’t it?

“I’m sorry. I...I really am. It’s just… It’s…” Marinette sighed. “It’s just that it’s a lot to take in, you know?”

She had finally raised her eyes to his, and Adrien had to fight back tears; maybe it would have been better if she had continued to avoid him.

So he was the one to turn his eyes away this time.

“I guess,” he couldn’t help the bitterness in his voice to show through. “I just...I didn’t know it would be so bad.”

“It’s not! It’s not that! It’s just that… we still...we still need to get used to this,” she gestured between them, “and… superheroes ca—”

“—can’t date, I know. I understand. I mean—not completely, but... I get it.”

And he did; really, he did get it.

It was selfish of him, probably, to not want things to stop. He found that it was also maybe a little selfish of her to want them to.

None of them had decided to be heroes—and yet they had to bear the consequences of such a responsibility.

Looking back at her, she had now dropped down her eyes and wasn’t watching him anymore. A strong gust of wind blew on the balcony, making Marinette’s hair wave with it.

“It’s getting late,” Adrien spoke. “And you’re freezing out here. I should get going. We’ll see each other tomorrow at school.”

He extended his baton.

“Adri—Chat Noir! Wait!”

She grabbed his tail, stopping him in his tracks. He turned around. She was fidgeting, and looked tentatively into his eyes.

“I’m sorry. I hope it’s not...I hope it’s not too hard but…”

He sighed. “I’m not gonna lie and pretend it doesn’t hurt. It...it does. A lot. It’s like…” he sighed. “It’s like we had everything, and then…” He paused. “But I guess… none of us can control the way we feel, right?”

She nodded numbly. He attempted to give a smile, but he knew he wasn’t doing a good job at it.

“I just wished I knew what’s wrong with me, “ he murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

“I… it’s not… I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you,” Marinette tried. He could hear her voice trembling. I don’t think there’s anything right with me either, he didn’t say—and she didn’t say either, he noted with a bitter smile. “We’re just a mess right now.”

She bit her lip and he had to force to keep his eyes on hers. He felt terrible. Worse than all those times she had rejected him, because—well, because now he knew just how much he was losing.

“That we are.”

“We’re still...we’re still friends, right?” she asked after a few seconds of awkward silence.

“It’s you and me against the world, so… of course.” He shrugged.

And with that, he left, finally letting the tears blur his vision on his way home.

Tonight, their old promise sounded more bitter than comforting. Them against the world, the heroes fighting for the city, forced together by their duty and pulled apart at the same time.

───※ ·❆· ※───

23rd of January, 2 days after the reveal

Marinette rushed back inside her bedroom as soon as Adrien had left and threw her head in her pillow, crying her heart out. Screaming to Tikki how unfair it was to have to be responsible, at Master Fu for choosing this life for her, at herself for following it, at Adrien and Chat Noir for being the same people.

Shouting at Adrien again, at another Adrien she hadn’t even really known that it was all his fault. His fault, his fault, his fault, all his fault. She knew it was unfair of her—but she needed to put the blame on someone, and Chat Blanc, who didn’t exist anymore, seemed like a good candidate, no matter how wrong she knew it was.

───※ ·❆· ※───

24th of January, 3 days after the reveal

“...My father wanted us to break up.”

Marinette shrunk on herself. She wished she had been able to come up with a better excuse on the spot. Anything that would have avoided Adrien’s cold and numb tone when he repeated her flimsily excuse.

But nothing sounded plausible enough; nothing else could explain this sudden change in their dynamic.

“It...it was a surprise, really, we weren’t expecting it,” she tried, hoping he would follow her lead.

Adrien clicked his tongue. “A surprise, indeed.”

“Aaaand you didn’t think of dating in secret becaaause…?” Alya drawled, the cease in her brow increasing the longer she looked between the two of them.

“Because… well… because…” Marinette fumbled, trying to think  of a way out because Alya wasn’t wrong and it was a flaw in her carelessly crafted plan.

“Because Marinette didn’t want to,” Adrien supplied curtly.

Alya and Nino’s heads snapped towards her with incredulous looks in their eyes, making her involuntarily shrink on herself even more.

“She said it wasn’t worth a try,” he shrugged and sat down, his back now to her.

Alya looked between the two with a mix of worry, incomprehension and a hint of pity. Marinette didn’t dare look at Nino to see what emotions would flicker in his eyes.

“That’s not it, it’s…” she struggled, took a deep breath, and tried again. She had to roll with what he came up with. “If he were to find out we...we’d be in trouble. You’d be in trouble… and I don’t want that,” she whispered the last words.

“Like I said,” Adrien said coolly, half turning towards them. “Not even worth a try.”

Her heart crumpled.

───※ ·❆· ※───

26th of january, 5 days after the reveal

“Chat Noir, you’re here!” Marinette exclaimed, relieved.

He twirled his baton, deflecting a spurt of gooey green liquid she could only dread to know the composition of—some akumas truly were more disgusting than others to deal with. “As for every akuma.” He raised a brow. “Don’t act so surprised.”

She startled. In the midst of all the action, in the hope and wait for his arrival—because she always felt bolder and stronger once her partner was by her side—she had forgotten.

This was Adrien, her ex-boyfriend with whom she had broken up and had upsetted. And who still wasn’t talking to her much. Thinking about him as ‘ex’ suddenly hurt as she realised it was the first time she was referring to him as such in her head.

Marinette blinked back remorseful tears and tried ignoring the tightness in her chest to focus on the akuma again. She still needed to find where the akumatised object was, and she couldn’t let her emotions get in the way of her job.

She decided to pretend things were fine. “His name is Snowtty, we don’t know the victim but it’s a kid who was made fun of for having a runny nose after receiving a snowball in his face. Try to avoid his green spurts, they would freeze you on the spot!”

Adrien barely nodded before jumping into action, without so much as a word of acknowledgement like he would usually do. It hurt more than she would care to admit.

She knew they hadn’t talked since that evening on her balcony, but she had hoped he just needed time to process and that it wasn’t deeper than that. He had said they were still friends, hadn’t he?

Trying to ignore the sting in her eyes, she jumped after him into the fight.

“Ladybug! I see your pet has arrived to the scene as well,” Snowtty sneered. “All the better for me, I need both your miraculous after all!”

“I’m my own person, thank you very much,” Chat Noir said, none of his usual teasing in his voice. “And you won’t be getting any miraculous. Why don’t you give us your akuma instead and save everyone’s time? You’re just gonna lose like the others do, anyway.”

The akuma let out a growl of frustration and double-fired in their direction. Marinette ran for cover using her yoyo as a deflecting shield, Adrien using his baton.

He didn’t take cover with her.

She called him and was almost relieved when he picked up.

“Okay, he’s angrier than I thought he was. Any idea where the akuma could be?”

“You’re telling me you don’t?” he raised a brow. “He’s throwing his substance from that bracelet he has on his left wrist, and there aren’t any other objects.”

It seemed obvious now. But she wasn’t at the top of her game and was far too focused on her relationship with her partner than she was on the fight at hand, and she realised how detrimental it could be—not letting her personal life interfere with her duties as Ladybug was one of the rules she had promised herself to never break, yet here she was.

“Right,” she said, voice wavering. “I… Right. You’re right. Good job, Kitty.”

She regretted the nickname as soon as it left her mouth.

“‘tis nothing, Ladybug,” he shrugged. “Guess you cast your lucky charm and I distract him as usual.”

“Not yet, I need to first figure ou—” She let out a sigh as he ended the call, and turned to see him heading back straight for the akuma.

Well. The message was clear.

Throwing her yoyo angrily in the air, she called on her lucky charm. And was rewarded for her effort with an umbrella.

She wanted to scream.

She glanced up and closed her eyes, temporarily blinded by the brightness of the sun. “And it’s not even raining,” she grumbled.

She stomped away from her hiding place, only to be thrown on the ground a second after.

“Wha—”

Adrien was hovering over her and spared a glance behind towards Snowtty before standing and helping her up.

“Thank you,” she mumbled.

But he ran back towards the akuma without so much as a glance in her direction. The momentary relief she felt when he saved her evaporated right away. She ran after him.

She hated how he could be upset with her in the middle of an akuma fight but still be able to focus on the task at hand. Because he was paying great care to the akuma and his surroundings and was trying to actively find a solution to put an end to the fight—something she had a harder time doing when her personal feelings were getting overwhelming. She couldn’t reproach him for that. It was just incredibly infuriating.

“Adri—Chat Noir, will you please talk to me and stop ignoring me?” Marinette exploded, frustrated. “It’s been two days and now is not the time!”

“Bold words from someone who ran away and avoided me for two days after discovering my identity,” Adrien snapped back, avoiding another blast of green.

Her heart stuttered painfully. He was right, but it made it no less hurtful to hear. She and Chat Noir had argued in the past, and while it had never been pleasant, it was something they knew how to navigate through — how to come out stronger from. She and Adrien, however? Never. She hadn’t even fathom the possibility of it ever coming up one day. Any comebacks she could have had died on her tongue, and Ladybug found herself speechless.

They both ran for cover once again behind the safety of a rooftop chimney, leaving Snowtty growling at having lost their track.

She swallowed painfully. “Listen. I know you’re hurt, I understand and you have every right to be. But we need to work together right now.”

He kicked some of the remaining snow from the roof, fidgeting with his hands. “I don’t know. I don’t think my father would approve of that.”

She frowned. “Of what?”

“Us working togeth—” he sighed, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “Sorry. Forget I said anything, that was rude. Let’s...let’s just get back to the fight. I’ll behave.”

She grabbed his hand before he could vault away. “Wait.”

“Ladybug, I don’t think we have the time to talk or—”

“And I think it’s important that we talk now,” she said, giving him a pleading look. “Please.”

He kept eye contact with her for a few seconds before glancing hesitantly towards the city, nibbling at his lower lip. “Okay,” he finally murmured.

She involuntarily squeezed his hand in relief. He didn’t squeeze back, but he didn’t take it away either.

She hadn’t taken the time to focus on her feelings for him in the midst of her freakout about his identity; the warmth of his hand and the tips of his claws barely grazing hers and enhancing its delicacy made her realise that if anything, they had only gotten stronger.

It was painfully heartwarming.

“Are you...are you still… upset, about us, um… about me… you know…” she gestured between them.

“Breaking up with me?” He shook his head. “No. I’m hurt, yes. But that’s your right. That’s not what I’m angry about.”

“Then what…” she trailed off.

He sighed. “I thought I had made it clear, but I guess not.” He paused and kicked some more snow. “I didn’t like you telling everyone that my father forced us to break up,” he mumbled, and she had to listen carefully to pick up every word.

She blinked. “That’s… it?” She threw her hands in front of her at the glare he sent her. “I mean, don’t get me wrong… I agree it wasn’t my best excuse, but we had to find one that sounded plausible and…”

“That’s the thing, Marinette,” he said. “You decided to use my father as your excuse without asking me first.” He wrapped his arms around himself and looked to the ground. “I know my father isn’t… isn’t the best and that he can be… a little strict, but… He wouldn’t do that.”

There was a beat of silence.

“He wouldn’t do that,” he repeated more quietly.

She didn’t know if he was trying to convince himself or her; but she didn’t know Gabriel Agreste much and thus couldn’t confirm nor refute his words.

He shook his head. “But the thing is… How would you have felt if I had told everyone that...that your parents had forced us to break up?” He lifted his gaze towards her, green eyes piercing through her.

“Oh,” she said, understanding dawning on her. “Oh. I see.”

“Yeah.”

“I hadn;t...I hadn’t thought about that,” Marinette admitted.

“Well.”He sniffed, angrily wiping at his eyes. “You should have.”

She hadn’t noticed that he was on the verge of crying, but she instantly felt shame coursing through her.

He kicked the snow harder. “And the worst part  is… the worst part is that… it workedI he almost spat. “They...they believed your excuse. They didn’t even doubt it, they just….” He gestured with his hands .“...Bought it as if it was obvious and that...that hurt.”

She stayed quiet for a few seconds, taking it in. She didn’t want to start the conversation now as to why it had been that easy for their friends to believe his father would do such a thing—it was something that they would have to discuss another day. A day on which he’d be more ready.

“I’m sorry,” she finally whispered. “I panicked because I...I realised I hadn’t thought of a reason for our breakup. My mind was busy with something else.” She chuckled dryly with a hand gesture in the air. “But you’re right, I crossed a line and that’s not an excuse. I probably would have killed you if you had told them my parents were the reason for our breakup.”

A timid smile appeared on his lips. “Good thing it was just me, then.”

She giggled tearily. “Yeah, good thing. But still. I hope you can forgive me. I promise I’ll be more careful.”

He sighed. “You know I can’t stay mad at you for very long, Marinette. Thank you. And I apologise too. I… I probably overreacted. And I should have known better than to snap during a fight.”

She smiled. “It’s okay. But maybe now, don’t wait until there’s an akuma to talk to me. Now that we know each other’s identities, you don’t need to.”

“I think I needed time to… digest that. But you’re right, will do.”

They looked at each other, smiling shyly as an awkward silence settled between them.

“So, Ladybug,” Adrien spoke with a wobbly smile, glancing towards the lucky charm in her hands, “shall we go back to the fight so you can play Mary Poppins?”

It still wasn’t a ‘my Lady’ or a ‘Buguinette’, and there was no wink to accompany his teasing, but he was back to joking. She would take it.

“Of course.” She smiled. “But let me recharge first.”

───※ ·❆· ※───

15th of February, 25 days after the reveal

“Psssst, come here, kitty kitty! I just want to be your frien—”

Marinette groaned as the ginger cat ran away, joining a tabby cat further up the alleway.

A chuckle from behind her startled her. “Looks like you’re having cat troubles.”

She turned around to meet her partner’s cat-like eyes, and yes, she was having cat troubles, indeed.

“They don’t like me,” she just said.

Adrien seemed to search her eyes for a second or two, his expression unreadable. “You know that’s not true.”

She didn’t know if the conversation was about the cats in the street anymore, and she wasn’t sure whose fault it was. But soon after, Adrien shook his head, blond hair softly sweeping against his cheeks, and let a smile pull at his lips.

He crouched down, grabbed his belt tail and slowly moved it around.

“You need to let them come to you.”

Marinette watched the tail slither, half hypnotised by the movement, until she heard the soft tapping of his claws on the ground. His fingers drummed in a steady rhythm, and she couldn’t help but marvel at how delicate the motion was.

It seemed that some cats around agreed because, soon enough, one advanced towards him, while another had laid down and began wiggling his butt and tail, ready to pounce.

She looked back at Adrien and he was smiling widely at them, anticipating their every move and excited to see their reactions. He looked so happy, so carefree and her heart did a somersault at the sight — she knew that she shouldn’t think like this, but she wished she had been the one he was looking at. She wished she could be one of these kittens, ready to tackle him to the ground, so they could fall in a heap of laughter together. So they could suddenly stop, and gaze into each other’s eyes, getting lost in each other, and maybe, just maybe, lean a little bit closer and ki—

“Wow.” Adrien’s loud laughter shook her out of her reverie. “No need to bite me, little one!”

While a small grey cat had attacked his tail and was nibbling at it, rolling on the floor, another one was more focused on his hand.

The white one with blue eyes.

“Careful,” she told him, “that one’s nasty.”

Adrien continued to play with the cat, moving a finger around and hovering it above his nose that the kitten tried to take a mouthful of.

“What? Why do you say that?”

“Well, he bit you. And earlier, he scratched me. Good thing my suit could protect me or my arms would have been covered in blood,” she informed.

Adrien smiled. “That doesn’t make him nasty.”

She spluttered. “Wha—? How—of course it does! He’s a mean cat, trust me on this! All white cats with blue eyes are!”

He chuckled, giving him a fond look the kitten didn’t deserve. “Good thing I’m a black cat, then.”

She shuddered.

“And he’s not mean,” he went on, “he’s broken.”

Marinette frowned. “What do you mean, ‘broken’?”

Somehow, Adrien had managed to pet the cat on the head, making him let out a contented meow. “Cats who have been abandoned or rejected by their mother too young tend to be more aggressive,” he explained, a pained smile she wasn’t quite sure how to interpret. “They scratch and bite a lot because in a way, they’re kind of lost.”

He took him in his arms and kissed his nose, to which the cat answered with a small ‘meow’. Staying close to his face, he scratched under his chin that the cat was exposing happily to him as a sign of complete trust. Adrien’s smile melted when a purr rumbled out of the kitten, and Marinette hung on it with both fascination and envy.

He let out a breathy chuckle. “See? He just needs someone to show him they care.”

“Show him they care,” she repeated dumbly. She could do that. She coul— “What if...what if it still doesn’t change anything?”

Adrien’s gaze left the kitten to turn to her. “What do you mean?”

“What if...What if even if someone cares about him, and cares about him so much they would sacrifice their own happiness for him if it came to it, and shows him everyday and tells him everyday but he still…” She stopped, fumbling with her words for a second. “...He still keeps biting and scratching and feeling lost and alone a-and no one can save him?” She lifted her eyes to his, only to find her vision blurry.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, what are you talking about?” Adrien breathed.

“M-maybe, this cat is doomed from the start. Maybe he’ll be like that forever, no matter what and maybe they’ll all be like that and—”

“My Lady,” a hand landed on her shoulder, stopping her from spiralling further—and here it was, the ‘my Lady ‘she’d been craving for so much, at the most unexpected time. “That’s stupid. I’m not sure if it’s about cats anymore,” he chuckled, “but I’ll pretend it is.”

She blinked back tears. He kept on, “Yes, some of these hurt cats never change. But not all of them! You can never really know what will happen, how they’ll evolve, because they’re all different, and they’ll all live different lives.”

He smiled at her, his delicate hand never leaving her shoulder, while the other continued petting the purring white kitten. “We can’t guess what will happen to them. All we can do is try, and take the risk. And maybe the owners of this lovely kitty will be lucky and have a loving ball of fur”— he bopped the cat’s nose who in turn let out a small ‘meow’— “or they’ll be less lucky and have a little monster that—ouch,” he said, as the cat chased his bopping finger to bite it, “bite them from time to time but still would be worth caring for.” He sighed a chuckle.

Marinette swallowed, taking it in. “So you mean that… the future of this cat isn’t… set in stone?” she asked carefully.

“Of course not! No one can know what he’ll grow into now, it will depend on a lot of factors.” He took his hand off her shoulder to lift the cat off his lap and nuzzle his nose with his. “Isn’t that right, little one? You’ll be a good kitty, won’t you?”

She let a smile pull at her lips at the sight. Adrien turned to face her with a big goofy grin on his face.

“If our future was written in our DNA, we’d have known all about our futures a long time ago,” he chuckled.

She let his words sink in, closing her eyes. What if...what if.

What if their love wouldn’t destroy the world, this time.

But what if it did again.

...But what if it didn’t?

She heaved a sigh, releasing some of the tension that had been weighing down on her. When she opened her eyes, it was to see that Adrien was back to playing with the kitten.

“And what are we gonna call you, hm? Ooooh, I know! See, I’m Chat Noir, so that would make you Chat Bla—”

“—FLOCON!” Marinette interrupted him.

He blinked at her. “Chat Flocon?”

“No, just...just Flocon. He’s white as snow, and fluffy like a snowflake, so it makes sense. And,” she added after a beat, “it’s cute.”

And it reminded her of that date they shared, just before revealing their identities, strolling through a snowy Paris. It was a memory she cherished, even if it didn’t end quite well.

Adrien grinned. “Okay. Flocon it is.” He scratched the cat’s chin, who purred in turn and tried to bite his finger again. “No,” he told him, “I said no biting, you thickhead.”

She could watch him bicker with a kitten for hours, she thought.

“Hey, Buguinette,” he called out to her, pulling her out of her momentary reverie, “you wanna hold Flocon?”

She blinked. “Errr… I don’t know if that's a good idea or…”

He laughed. “He’s not that aggressive. It’s up to you; but if you want to try befriending him again…” He held a half-wiggling and meowing Flocon in the air towards her.

Marinette bit her lip, and took a deep breath. Maybe it was a bad idea to cave, but... “Okay,” she finally said. “I’ll give him a try.”

───※ ·❆· ※───

26th of April, 95 days after the reveal

“Adrien, aren’t you gonna snap her in half?” Alya asked with incredulous eyes.

It made both him and Marinette giggle. “It’s like she doesn’t know that you’re usually the one snapping me in half between the two of us,” Adrien whispered in her ear, which made her laugh harder. “She said she wanted to!” he told Alya louder.

“Yes, Alya,” Marinette added, “I’m a strong girl and I can carry him! Right, Adrien?”

“Right!” he replied enthusiastically, clinging harder on her back.

He wasn’t sure it was a good idea, but he was too busy feeling lighthearted and free on this spring afternoon. It was the first warm day of the year, with only a slightly chilly breeze coming to ruffle his hair at times that only contributed in increasing his  giddiness. For the fifth time this day, he thanked the star that made his father allow him to go out to the temporary funfair with his friends—though he thought they were studiously working on a school project.

“It’s not because you can carry him that you should,” Nino said, shaking his head fondly.

“You’re just jealous because Alya isn’t carrying you.” She stuck her tongue out at him. “Let’s ride to the moon and back!”

“To the moon and back!” Adrien repeated, one hand raised in the air.

Marinette let out a warrior cry before attempting to run, albeit slowly because of his weight, and he could tell they wouldn’t go far as he already felt himself slide down and her grip on his legs slacken.

He should have known they’d fall face first before she got too exhausted. If he had, maybe he’d have had the time to react and avoid it.

As it was, he just found himself on top of Marinette on the ground. He lifted himself up and sat down, Marinette soon doing the same.

Distantly, he heard Alya and Nino running towards them shouting “are you okay”s and “are you hurt”s at profusion, but he didn’t pay them any mind as Marinette looked up at him with eyes glinting with mirth and they both fell in a heap of laughters.

Some passersby looked at them funnily while others whispered some “that must hurt”s or “everything alright?”s to them.

“It’s okay,” Adrien told them. “We’ve had it worse!”

“Yes,” Marinette chimed in. “One time we were thrown by an akuma—”

“—A big tuna," he quickly corrected.

“—a big tuna, he’s right,” she repeated, “and we both fell right into a moving bus, and we survived!”

“And you find that funny,” Nino deadpanned, putting his hands on his hips as Adrien helped Marinette up.

Adrien just grinned at him. “Yup! We’re the survivors.”

“And we’re gonna make it!” Marinette sang.

“You’re insufferable,” Alya chuckled. “The both of you. I don’t know how you two can be more unhinged than me with Marinette, but—”

“—That’s because we’re exes besties,” Adrien chirped. Despite the months that had passed, it always hurt a little to call each other “exes”. But he had long since learned that laughing at his suffering was better than crying over it. He just wondered when and if he’ll ever be over her one day. He probably never really would.

“Hey,” Nino said indignantly. “But you’re my best friend!”

“Maybe, but are you also exes, hm?” Marinette asked him. “Because we are, and it makes us the unstoppable exes besties! And now, our next stop will be…” She jumped on Adrien’s back without warning and he caught her with a ‘oof’. “...to that splashing boat attraction over there!”

“Dudes, you already fell once, what are you doing?”

“We’re getting back up, Nino, and we try again,” she announced proudly, raising her fist up. “Let’s go to the boat, Adrien, and may our ship sail! Go, go, go!”

Adrien faintly heard a ‘they’re beyond help’ from Alya as he ran towards the attraction, both his and Marinette’s laughters echoing in the wind.

───※ ·❆· ※───

28th of May, 127 days after the reveal

Adrien landed with a grunt on the pavement. The suit was a good protector, but it didn’t stop his back from hurting from the impact with the ground. This akuma — Firebender as he called himself — truly was more violent than usual.

“Wow,” he managed to breath between two gasps, “you’re on fire today!”

He tried to push himself up with an arm, and raised his head towards Firebender with a half-closed eye. The fireball he saw coming towards him arrived so fast that he didn’t even have the time to do so much as widening his eyes. An anguish cry was the last thing he heard before it faded and he saw nothing at all.

───※ ·❆· ※───

28th of May, 127 days after the reveal

Marinette realised she was screaming when she felt her lungs were empty.

Usually, when an akuma took lives, the victims just disappeared into thin air, as if they had never been. They weren’t lying there, unmoving on the pavement like Adrien was. Somehow, seeing was worse than not.

She felt dizzy, as if everything around her was moving in slow motion. She staggered, trying to turn her head away from the sight of her unresponsive partner who was becoming blurrier and blurrier the longer she looked at him. She needed to breathe, she needed to—

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO,” she screeched instead, the sound reverberating into the street, bouncing from building to building.

She took a ragged breath, and another, closing her eyes as she took in the dead silence that greeted her scream.

She swallowed her first sob and squeezed her eyes tight shut, taking yet another heavy breath. She turned towards the akuma before opening her eyes, otherwise she knew she wouldn’t be able to tear her gaze away from Adrien’s dead form. She gritted her teeth as soon as the thought of him being gone entered her mind again.

“You’re a monster,” she spat, low and cold, the last word echoing through the silence and carrying her voice to Firebender’s ears — to Hawkmoth’s.

All these days worrying over the possibility of a devastating future she had seen, all this time doing everything she could to avoid it no matter how little she knew of it, and she hadn’t considered the possibilities she hadn’t been a witness of. All these days flirting with the line between caving and resisting only for her regretful indecision to hit her in the most cruel way.

“Give up, Ladybug,” Hawkmoth spoke through Firebender, “you no longer have your pet. All you have to do is surrender your miracu—”

“And what?” she spat. “Let my partner die? Listen to me, Hawkmoth. I have a chance to save him, and for that I need to defeat you. You think I’m stupid? I’m not giving up on Paris. I’m not giving up on him!”

And I’m not giving up on us, she told herself.

“Lucky charm!” she roared, rage and determination coursing through her veins.

She knew nothing about how Chat Blanc had really happened, she realised, catching the spotted chain falling from above. Nothing about her current future, as she scanned her surroundings for a solution. Nothing but the crushing weight of the present and her fear of the unknown, as she opened her yoyo to retrieve the dragon miraculous and put it around her neck.

“Tikki, Longg, unify!”

As she surrounded herself with water and ran towards Firebender with only one goal in mind, she promised herself to never let the gifts the present gives her slide in favour of hypothetical futuristic tragedies. She was finally done running away and sacrificing her life to her fears.

───※ ·❆· ※───

28th of May, 127 days after the reveal

Light suddenly flooded Adrien’s vision as he took a sharp and deep intake of breath. His lungs were burning with the sudden air filling them up, and he squinted his eyes, trying to make sense of his surroundings. He groggily lifted himself up on his elbows when—

“Chaton!”

—a red blur threw herself at him. He caught her, her hair in his nose and her warm breath and hot tears in his neck.

He let her sob and squeeze him as understanding washed over him. He gently threaded his clawed fingers through her hair and massaged her scalp, noticing absent-mindedly that she was also wearing the dragon miraculous.

She slowly detangled herself from him but stayed close, looking into his eyes through her wet ones and caressing his cheek with her thumb.

“Kitty,” she whispered, her voice hoarse, “my Kitty.”

He didn’t have the time to react before her lips were on his and she took her time to savour him before ever so slowly pulling away. He let her do.

She didn’t stop there. Gently cradling his face in her trembling hands, she kissed his cheek. And his other cheek. And his forehead. His nose. His jaw. Puncturing each of her kisses with whispers of “mon Chaton”, or “Kitty”, or “my love”, to which his heart made a somersault at, before diving for his neck.

Each time he kept on letting her do, keeping her close to him as she sobbed through her kisses and yet another nickname for him.

He could feel her breathing him in; so, with his nose in her hair, he inhaled her scent too. Her hot breath left his neck once again, and she came back for his lips.

This time, he kissed her back, and as soon as his lips moved against hers, she choked on a sobbed whine and pushed her mouth closer to his, if that was even possible

He hadn’t forgotten the taste of her lips on his, even after all these months; but he also knew their kisses had never burnt so intensely, driven by despair, the need to memorise the present and the aroma of being alive.

───※ ·❆· ※───

1st of June, 131 days after the reveal

“I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

Marinette smiled sadly. “Oh, I don’t know. Hurting you. Putting us through this mess. Not telling you about Chat Blanc. Take your pick.”

She let her arms rest on the railing of the bridge, looking across the Seine. The clouds were getting darker and darker, though a sunray pierced through one of them, lighting up a few buildings on the shore in a powerful atmosphere. Her eyes followed a barge floating further and further away, waiting for the moment it would cross the ray of light.

“You’ve been hurting too,” Adrien said after a few seconds. “You’ve been shouldering it all on your own. Don’t be too hard on yourself.”

His hand slid into hers and she welcomed it, intertwining her fingers timidly with his. She glanced at him with a tentative smile and he smiled back, looking at her with soft eyes. She looked back towards the Seine just in time to see the barge slicing through the sunbeam.

“Still. Maybe, if I had told you… if I hadn’t let my fears get the best of me…” She trailed off, not knowing what else to say.

“And maybe,” Adrien spoke when it was clear she wouldn’t add something more, squeezing her hand once, “if you had told me earlier, I would have given up Chat Noir.”

She gasped and turned to him, but he was looking at the Seine with saddened eyes.

“What do you mean?” she breathed.

“I’m not sure I’d have been able to handle hearing that I could destroy the world as an akuma,” he whispered, caressing the back of her hand with his thumb as if to reassure her. “It’s… really hard already, but I feel like it would’ve been worse before.”

He turned his head towards her again and she held his gaze, gripping his hand harder as if to dare him to leave.

“You said it yourself,” he went on, “just like we have no idea about what the future can really hold, we can’t know how things would have played out if we had done things differently. What really matters right now is what you want us to be from now on.”

She searched his expectant eyes for a few seconds before looking back at the Seine. A tourist boat coming towards them had replaced the barge in the sunspot before the window of clouds closed on the light, leaving only a dark atmosphere in its place. The clouds grew darker and a warm gust had picked up, making their hair fly in every direction and their clothes ruffling in a frenzy. Marinette felt her emotions growing with the wind, begging to be said and to explode.

She took a deep breath, closing her eyes and feeling the wind coursing through her as she gathered her thoughts, and opened them again.

“I love you, Adrien,” she spoke, her declaration followed by a distant rumble in the sky. “I love you so, so much. Discovering that you were Chat Noir, once I took it all in… it was the best thing in the world, but also the worst.”

She faced away from the Seine to face him instead and take both his hands in hers, gripping them as tight as she could to ground herself as she felt a flow of tears coming in.

“It made me fall in love with you so much more it hurt, but I knew I couldn’t be with you or I knew I shouldn’t because…” She paused, taking ragged breaths. “...Because it wouldn’t be responsible. Because we’re superheroes and because I had this warning with Chat Blanc, and as the guardian it’s my role to keep us grounded and to do the right thing.”

A lighting bolt pierced through the sky, accompanied by a loud thunderstrike a few seconds later. Adrien was looking at her with a pain in his eyes that she knew meant he was hurting for her and not him.

“But I don’t want to do the right thing this time,” she murmured, as she felt a first drop of water slide down her cheek. “I’m tired of doing what’s supposedly right. Not when...not when we’re both hurting so much that it feels like it’s more dangerous to stay this way instead of just… giving in.”

At this point, she didn’t know who out of her and Adrien were gripping the other’s hands the tightest. She felt more and more raindrops falling on her face and clothes. She didn’t know if the water in his eyes were because he was tearing up or not.

“So maybe our love destroyed the world, once,” she continued, “but I think there’s enough far more damaging hate in this world; and ever since these akuma attacks started, what saved it is our love — for Paris, for our family and friends… and for each other.”

Adrien’s eyes now held a glint of adoration. His now damped hair was sticking to his face while some strands curled with the water. She supposed hers wasn’t faring much better.

“So to answer your question,” she swallowed a sob, “I want us to be together… if you’ll have me.”

Lightning ripped through the sky accompanied by deafening thunder as Adrien pulled her into a crushing hug. She put her arms around his neck to pull him even closer to her and let the flow of her tears finally mix with the rain on her cheeks.

“Marinette,” he whispered, voice wavering and lips barely touching her ear, “I love you, of course I’ll have you. I’ll always have you.”

The rain fell even harder as they hugged closer and cried, soaking them, yet they couldn’t care less. Their clothes were sticking to their bodies, growing more and more uncomfortable, which was worsened by them being in each other’s arms, but Marinette hadn’t felt so good in a long time.

She suddenly pulled away from the hug and cradled his head between her hands. He took her face in his and they stayed closed, forehead against forehead, breathing each other in. Another rumbled resounded and Marinette’s last resolve snapped with it—she brought her lips to his and kissed him.

He responded in kind, and she drank him in and pressed her mouth closer as she felt him doing the same. She should care about the rain falling and the thunder rumbling, but the battering of the elements were just making her feel freer, finally allowing her to get away from all her self restraints.

She sighed against Adrien’s lips as they kept coming back for more. They kissed their reunion, the relief of finding each other again, at last—unlike when he had come back from the dead earlier, these kisses tasted of the promise of more to come, because they knew they would stay together this time.

───※ ·❆· ※───

21st of January, 1h45 after the reveal

“Okay. What’s going on between you two? You’ve been acting awkward since we’ve got here.”

What was going on. What was going on.

“We’re fine,” the lie rolled out of her tongue easily. “Really.”

Alya raised a brow. “Adrien?”

She saw him smiling from the corner of her eyes. He was a much better actor than her—always had been.

“It’s nothing. It’s… we just… we’re working on it.”

...And much more honest than she was, be it with his feelings or with his heart. Always had been.

“Well,” Nino said, “I hope it’s not too big of a deal and that you’ll get over it soon. You guys are the cutest out there.”

Marinette smiled painfully. She glanced at Adrien who was looking at her with soft eyes that she didn’t deserve considering her reaction, and she felt his warm hand timidly covering hers.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “I have hopes we will. We always do.”

───※ ·❆· ※───

21st of January, one year after the reveal

“You’re heavy,” Adrien gasped.

“That’s a rude thing to say to a lady,” Marinette commented from atop him, head resting on the arms she had folded on his chest. “And even more so to your girlfriend.”

He groaned and attempted to lift himself up. Fail. She was grinning at him and he pouted in fake-annoyance. “Not when said girlfriend is purposefully putting all her weight on you! I can’t breath!”

Marinette giggled and pressed herself further on him to which he let out a choked whimper, before pushing away from him after a few seconds, ending his suffocation.

“I could report you for attempting murder, you know,” he threatened with a finger. “‘Ladybug slips into teenage model Adrien Agreste’s room and proceeds to suffocate him’, now that would make the newspapers talk for months.”

She laughed and came back to hover over him. “‘And Adrien asked her to do it again’,” she smirked, and she bent down to peck his lips.

He couldn’t even argue with that.

He discreetly brought his hand close to where his head was lying to grab a pillow. When she pushed herself up and sat next to him, he quickly hit her head with it.

She gasped, betrayed and that sent him into a fit of laughter. She glared at him playfully, grabbed his other pillow, and swatted him way harder than he had.

“You’re dead, Kitty! You hear me?” she said, trying and failing not to laugh. “You’ve just signed your death contract!”

“No, my Lady, please I’m just a defenseless citizen!”

“I’ll knock you out with my yo-yo!” she threatened.

They fought again for a few minutes before stopping, Adrien breathless but Marinette only slightly out of breath due to being transformed.

“I hope your father won’t come in,” Marinette said.

“Don’t worry, if he or Nathalie come, you’ll just say you’re investigating here because, uh...because you suspect me of being Hawkmoth!”

She laughed. “Kitty, that’s such a stupid idea.”

“Why not?” Adrien wiggled his eyebrows. “After all, I do disappear during every akuma attack.”

Marinette smiled and crawled into his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck as he steadied her with his hands on her hips. They lost themselves into each other’s eyes, faces close but not close enough to exactly touch.

“Then,” she murmured against his lips, and he felt his cheeks heating up. “I’ve come to seduce my enemy. Is it working?”

“I’d rather be your partner if that’s okay,” he whispered.

“Yes, but is it working Adrien?”

He chuckled—she didn’t even need to try, he’d always been too far gone when it came to her. “A bit too much.”

He kissed the proud and satisfied giggle from her lips.

#ml fanfic #miraculous #adrinette #ladynoir #identity reveal #pre-reveal post-relationship #but then #post-reveal pre-relationship #yes I made it both okay #breakup & getting back together #angst & fluff #happy ending #mention of chat blanc #hurt/comfort #temporary character death #but like it doesn't last long okay it's just an Akuma thing #myshitwriting

[bellshells]

Do Me No Wrong Part One

Part one of Do Me No Wrong, this is just entirely too big and too self serving to be one post. I guess we could call this a slow-burn now? I have thoroughly enjoyed writing this, and cannot wait to share part two with you! Pairing: Severus Snape x Fem!Reader x Remus Lupin Warnings: Language, Alcohol, Smut (Masturbation, Penetrative sex), Angst(?), Suggested Polyamorous Themes Word Count: 10.7k+

  It appeared to be at first glance quite an innocent and innocuous start to the spring term. The castle had been abuzz from October to Christmas after Sirius Black had encroached the defences and found his way to Gryffindor Tower. Luckily, The Fat Lady had performed her duty and not allowed him entry; but that did nothing to quell the whispers of fear and excitement that reverberated off the ancient stone walls. You had found it difficult to look Remus in the eye. When he was present for meals that is. You had known him whilst you were a student- albeit Remus and his friends (Sirius included) had been four years older and far more important than to ever cast even a cursory glance in your direction. But still the fact remained that the four of them along with Potter and Pettigrew had been more like brothers than friends, everyone knew that. It must be immensely difficult to know that your best friend; your supposed brother in arms had escaped from the most secure facility this side of the wizarding world and had successfully broken in to the second most secure facility to murder one of your students. Not only that, the son of your other best friend who also died because of this man.

  You supposed that’s why, that first night that Remus appeared in the Great Hall, sandy hair limp around his face and dark circles under his eyes, you cleared your throat and offered him a smile. Remus returned it tightly, his eyes tired and glassy as he took his seat next to you. He smelled terrible, you turned your head to the side as inconspicuously as you could and muttered a spell under your breath, in an instant the smell was gone and although you assumed Remus would be none the wiser, you noticed as he gave a small glance in your direction. It was only when Severus appeared at the far end of the table that you noticed any change in Remus’ posture. He seemed to stiffen slightly, his chin raising in silent defiance as his hand reached greedily toward his goblet. The few interactions you had shared with Severus since you joined the Hogwarts teaching staff had done nothing to change your opinion of him. He was cold and distant when you were children and he remained unchanged these years later. It had been more than a surprise when he appeared as the new potion’s professor for your seventh year, it had only felt like five minutes since he had been a student himself, yet there he was; not so much fresh-faced as stony. He had remained as he always had; moody and unapproachable. Although, you had imagined that a man in his mid-thirties would have accumulated some conversational skills, it appeared that that had either passed Severus by, or he had deigned it unworthy of his time. In any case, you found it easier to keep out of his way, and in turn, Severus returned the favour. It almost seemed a shame. He had always come across as someone with a brilliant mind and therefore would have interesting and insightful opinions, but it had become clear very early on that if he did, he chose not to share them. Instead, you sought information or rather, gossip about him from the usual sources of Pomona and Minerva. Minerva, not readily able to forget your time as her student had refused to participate at first, but you learned swiftly that a bottle of mead and a muggle vinyl just might do the trick. Severus, a perpetual bachelor, still guarded even though the war had long since ended, nonetheless had piqued your interest almost immediately. It became apparent though, that you were indeed barking up the wrong tree.

  Remus seemed more comfortable after a while. He exchanged a few pleasantries with Hagrid as the bearded man made a clumsy attempt to request help in warding his hippogriff’s new lodging outside of his hut. Remus conceded to take a look, a smile that didn’t reach his eyes confirmation to Hagrid, and the games-keeper seemed content with that. You settled comfortably into the silence that fell over your side of the table. You often chose to sit on the very end, it made it easier to make a swift escape back to your chamber if needs be. You weren’t a head of house, neither did you teach a core subject, you had few Arithmancy students and so you found your evening often free. Not tonight though. You kept one eye on the headmaster and one eye on your muggle watch affixed to your left wrist. The ticking by of the seconds seemed arduously slow as your empty plate sat mockingly in front of you. Out of the corner of your eye, Pomona leaned forward in her chair and waved a hand in your direction. Glancing at the stout woman, she wore an excited grin. She was almost giddy as she tapped her wrist impatiently, an idiosyncrasy she had acquired from you. You bit your lip to stop the laugh that built in your chest and returned your gaze to your empty plate.   “Big plans?” A soft voice asked. Remus looked almost cheerful as he turned his attention to you from Pomona who was now practically tugging at Minerva’s sleeve like a child would do with their mother. You noticed how he seemed more like himself, the dark circles still prevalent under his green eyes, but his cheeks were flushed with pink.   “Oh yes. There’s a bottle of firewhisky with my name on it.” You replied, “I hear the Broomstick’s calling my name, if only this meal would just bloody end.” Remus sniggered and leaned toward you conspiratorially.   “I should have known alcohol would be involved. Nobody looks this happy on a Thursday…unless they have a date.” Remus whispered, he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and you placed a hand on his shoulder.   “Ah, someone has clearly never been for a drink with the two biggest gossips this castle has ever seen.” You gesture to where Minerva is subtly swatting Pomona away with an affectionately stern look. “It’s amazing the things you find out.” Bringing your goblet to your lips, the tartness of the wine brought a tingling from your tongue to the tips of your toes as Remus watched you. You considered the man before you, handsome and rugged. It was impossible to ignore the dramatic scars that littered his face and hands, but with the evocation of sympathy they withdrew, was an air of mystery that was almost intoxicating. Was he dangerous, or just very unlucky? Remus seemed to take note of your appraisal of him, whether he was amused or intrigued, his face didn’t betray him. Only the slight narrowing of his eyes told of a deeper thought held within.   “And what might one learn from two inscrutable gossips?” He said, his voice low. You felt an all too familiar feeling in the base of your chest, the feeling of boisterousness as you began to gently flirt with Remus. The dishevelled man from earlier almost entirely forgotten.   “That would be telling, Professor.”

  Remus looked slowly from your eyes to your lips and back, you had danced this dance before and knew how it would end; sweaty and sated more than likely. You smirked at the thought and reclined slightly in your chair, allowing Remus’ gaze to travel with you. You had barely noticed the students rise along the stretched pews as Albus stepped down from the High Table and moved languidly towards the now open doors. You stood too, now conscious of the hundreds of pairs of eyes looking at their teachers for permission to leave. Minerva nodded curtly to the crowd and the students began to noisily disperse to their respective common rooms. You took advantage of the distraction to slip away from the hall, there is after all, the most fun in the chase. You pondered silently to yourself as you dressed and made your way to the courtyard; if the flirtatious nature of your conversation with Remus had been by design a distraction technique of his own. He had seemed in a sorry state when he had arrived that evening, having been absent for the best part of a week. Alongside that, he had never much taken an interest in you beyond the professional up until that point and whilst you enjoyed the interaction, you weren’t convinced.

  Minerva was the first to join you, her emerald cloak snatched tightly to her chest in the brisk evening. She rolled her eyes as she approached you, a grimace settling on her face as she boldly lifted your wrist to her face and checked the time under the moonlight.   “She’s hounded me all evening to get out of the castle, its typical that she would be late.” Minerva sniffed as she folded her arms across her chest. You laughed once in agreement and enquired of her day, this earned another eye roll from the older witch confirming your suspicions that a stiff drink would be in order. Pomona came bounding out of the darkness, her hat slightly skewwhiff in her hurry and her breathless apology as she approached was all that was said before the three of you began towards Hogsmeade. The Three Broomstick’s was busy, busier than you had anticipated it to be on a Thursday in the middle of January. You craned your neck to see an available table, Pomona doing the same.   “Well, this simply won’t do.” Minerva muttered as she strode towards the bar. Madame Rosmerta gave a wry smile as she saw the three of you approach, she gestured over into the far corner where a single man sat nursing a tumbler of a russet looking liquid. You quirked an eyebrow as the man cheerfully lifted his glass to the three witches in welcome, Pomona nearly squealed with excitement as she bounced over to him. Minerva, who remained in her spot groaned. “Is there to be no reprieve?”

  Remus gestured to the three empty seats at his table with a wide smile. You shook your head in disbelief as you slowly sank into the waiting chair opposite him. He looked far better than he had done earlier that evening, he seemed to have bathed and shaved and appeared rather pleasant looking as he waved to Rosmerta and mimed a bottle and four glasses.   “Ladies, what a most welcome surprise!” Remus grinned wolfishly, his face seemed perfectly amiable, but his eyes glistened with something else, a glee that betrayed a thought that maybe their flirtation wasn’t as innocent as you previously had thought.   “If I’d have known you were coming Remus, I would have worn my good hat!” Pomona said with a smile, her cheeks rosy from the chill outside.   “You look positively radiant, Pomona.” Remus crooned; the plump witch’s face alight with the warmth of the compliment. She pat Remus’ hand affectionately and readily accepted the glass that was placed in front of her. “Allow me.” Remus poured two fingers of firewhisky into the three empty glasses and raised his own in a toast. “To unexpected meetings.” The sound of the clinking of glass reverberated through your body, his fingers electric against yours as they touched in a fleeting moment. Your breath hitched in your throat, it shocked you how your cheeks began to warm, and your stomach began to do small flips. Remus’ eyes, now more golden than green never left your face as if in silent appraisal of his effect on you. He seemed satisfied with the reaction as he smirked into his glass and allowed his attention to be captured by Minerva as she asked about his leave of absence.

  It wasn’t until your return journey to the castle that Remus initiated any further physical contact with you. The evening had passed how they usually do, the three friends exchanging stories and conspiring, laughing lots and drinking more. Now, feeling like your body was filled more with whisky than blood did Remus offer his arm to you. You took it gratefully, the two older women huddled together further ahead on the road as the snow began to fall upon the already picturesque village. With your hand in the crook of his elbow, Remus guided you over the unsteady cobbles only laughing lightly when you nearly lost your footing. His fingers found yours and although this could be perceived as a perfectly practical way in ensuring your safety, his touch seemed to burn your skin; it sent heat right the way through you. You were sure your heartbeat was audible to him, as it pounded aggressively in your ears as you moved closer into him, his torso flush with yours. You snuck a glance under your eyelashes up into the face of Remus Lupin, famed friend of two dead men and a mass murderer. His scars were silver in the moonlight, his face calm he weathered the terrain. You wanted to say something, anything to him; but nothing came. Instead, you continued to allow him to guide you while you peered up at this enigma of a man.

  Minerva searched over her shoulder when you approached the school grounds, satisfied that she could see you safely behind her, she waved goodbye. The snow was falling heavily now, thick spirals of white stuck in your hair, landing on your lips and freezing you to the core. You removed your hand from Remus’ grasp and waved back, Pomona beckoning Minerva inside to the warmth, no doubt to have a nightcap in the Gryffindor mistress’ office. Alone for the first time, Remus ushered you along the path of the courtyard to the covered corridor overlooking the lake which had this week begun to thaw, although with the sudden frost this night, it seemed unlikely now.   “You were right,” Remus stated after a while, his hands wound their way to his pockets, and he lifted himself onto the balls of his feet in an attempt to gain warmth in movement. When you didn’t answer, he licked his lips. “About how informative those two are. I’ve got enough dirt on people to have my lessons covered for weeks.” He grinned again, this time you noticed, it reached his eyes. You wondered whether Remus needed this as much as you did. It’s easy to let yourself get caught up in teenage drama when you’re drowning in it, but you suspected for him it must be something more. It wasn’t your place to pry of course, and Remus didn’t offer to divulge but you felt content in having potentially done a good deed.   “I’m sure your formal invitation to join us next week will be on your desk in the morning, if Pomona has anything to do with it.” You laughed and turned your back to the lake, it seemed far easier to keep your head held up straight if you leaned against the stone wall. Remus seemed to notice this and immediately reached his arms out to steady you.   “Never mind that, looks like someone will be dropping in to see Poppy in the morning.” He retorted as he attempted to stop your swaying. You had thought that the cold might sober you up, but that mixed in with a sudden overwhelming tiredness has left you almost dead on your feet.   “That’s the beauty of teaching an elective course,” you managed to get out as Remus near pulled you along the corridors, “My timetable is pretty sparse on Fridays. No lessons until after lunch.” You said smugly. Your eyes were fully closed now, if you were able and alone, you probably could have just set up camp here on the floor and been perfectly comfortable. But alas, Remus pushed onwards.

  A distant miaow stopped you dead in your tracks, Remus fumbled with his footing and slammed into the wall. He cursed and rubbed his arm absently as he peered at your stricken face, he attempted to talk but you held up a finger to stop him.   “Mrs. Norris.” You whispered gravely. Remus looked bemused as he looked both ways along the corridor.   “I think the coast is clear,” he whispered equally as seriously, he took your hand and squeezed it tightly urging you onwards.   “Filch once made me clean every toilet in every girl’s bathroom in my sixth year.” You shuddered at the memory, no wand just a pair of pink rubber gloves and a mouldy toilet brush.   “Blimey, what did you do?” You pondered whether to tell him the truth, that Filch had caught you on the edge of the Forbidden Forest after curfew with Gilderoy Lockheart. You would never forget the look of abject horror on the boy’s face as Filch emerged from the trees waving a lantern wildly whilst Lockheart’s hand was quite firmly in your knickers.   “Got caught with a boy.” You mumbled instead not meeting his eyes, Lockheart had been a numpty in school and even bigger one when he left by all accounts, but it was nasty business that led to Remus filling the position at Hogwarts. You had tried hard to suppress the fleeting dalliance you had shared with Lockheart, teenagers and their bloody hormones you had chalked it up to.   “Happens to the best of us,” Remus said brightly, “Your chamber is down here, isn’t it?” You hadn’t noticed that Remus had managed to escort you nearly to your door, you smiled at him gratefully.   “Yes, thank you,” You broke away from him and held on to the wall for support, your legs nearly giving way. “Woah-”   “Let me just-” Remus mumbled, more to himself than to you, you imagined. He placed an arm on the small of your back and guided you down the dimly lit corridor. Your fingers felt the cold stone give way to the wood of your chamber door and you fumbled for the handle, suddenly anxious of the man stood very close to you. That; turned out to be a very sobering thought. Was Remus expecting to be invited inside? It wasn’t that you didn’t want him to come inside, you had spent the last however long quietly being affected by every small touch, every slightly lingering look- but surely you were far too drunk to be engaging in anything other than sleep, surely, he would understand that. That wasn’t to say there wasn’t a part of you that wanted nothing more than to invite Remus inside and take him into your bed. He was a large man, tall and well built. Your eyes raked down his body and returned to his face. You felt a familiar throbbing between your legs in want, as you squeezed your thighs together.   “I would…I would normally-” You began, it was Remus’ turn to hold a hand up to stop you. He brushed his fingers across your bottom lip, this small gesture elicited a soft moan from you. His green-golden eyes now dark as he brought his face impossibly close to yours.   “Just a kiss…may I?” He breathed, you nodded slowly, utterly entranced by this intriguing man. Remus dropped his head down and gently pressed his lips to yours. It wasn’t a passionate kiss, it wasn’t a kiss filled with longing, but it felt completely natural and comforting that in that moment this particular man would be kissing you.

  “I would say I’m surprised, but I would of course, be lying.” A snide voice in the distance shattered this perfect moment in an instant. You turned your head in the direction of the voice and saw Severus stood, wand raised in Lumos and a small bottle covered in hemp cloth in his free hand.   “Severus.” Remus breathed; it wasn’t a greeting. There was an edge to his voice that made you think that it was a warning. You looked between the two men slightly confused, but on the whole far too tired to distinguish what on earth was happening. “Can I help you with something?” Severus merely shrugged and then held out his hand allowing you to get a good look at the cloth covered bottle. It was fairly large but must have been quite delicate to be wrapped so securely.   “For you.” Severus said disinterestedly. He waited; his arm still outstretched for Remus to move away from you. The chill of the wind that wound its way throughout the castle walls hit you immediately in the absence of Remus’ body heat. You shrunk as far as you could into the door, suddenly embarrassed to have been caught. Severus continued to stare at Remus until you cleared your throat to break the silence. It felt like hours, although it can’t have been more than a few seconds. Remus pocketed the bottle carefully and turned his back to the potions master, he looked at you earnestly.   “I had a really good time tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow?” He asked, he looked hopeful and yet there was something else in his expression. Like he was annoyed to have been interrupted, or perhaps he was annoyed that he had kissed you in the first place.   “Yeah,” you replied, your voice slightly strained. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Remus nodded at you and began to walk back the way you had come, his short cloak flowing behind him until he entered the darkness, and you couldn’t see him anymore. You turned toward your chamber door and noticed Severus was still there, his wand raised to the same level of your face. His brow furrowed in an expression you would take as concern in anybody else, but with Severus you couldn’t be sure.   “Do you require any assistance?” He said curtly, his voice was low, but you could almost imagine it was soft.   “No thank you, Severus. I think I’ll manage from here.” Your fingers once again found the handle and you turned it with ease, the door opened to reveal your dark chamber. Severus waved his wand once into the blackness, and every candle within your rooms flickered into life. You turned to him with a wry smile and thanked him. Before you could close the door on this bizarre exchange with Severus Snape, he placed a hand on your arm. You looked down at where his body made contact with yours curiously, his long fingers seemed to wrap around your wrist perfectly and a small thrill fluttered down your back as he squeezed.   “Be careful around Lupin,” Severus whispered, “He’s never been one for controlling his…urges.” You arched an eyebrow and looked up into the onyx eyes that peered thoughtfully into your own.   “And you?” You had no idea what made you say that. Instant repulsion at yourself slithered over your skin as you mentally kicked yourself. Interestingly though, Severus licked his lips as he considered his answer. Your heartbeat quickened in anticipation of what he would say, his face drawn close enough to yours to feel his breath on your face. It was impossible to not stare at the man’s lips, they were so close to yours after all. Another jolt of need spread between your legs, you stifled the moan that threatened to escape as Severus backed you against the cold stone wall.   “I have no issues with control. I expect nothing less than…total control in every aspect of my life.” With that, Severus turned on his heel and with three quick strides, you were alone.

Fuck.

You undressed quickly climbed hastily into bed. Your heart pounded quickly in your chest, as the knot of arousal that you had felt as soon as you had arrived at your chamber door became too difficult to ignore. Usually, if you would pleasure yourself, it would be an entire affair. An act of self-love, a hot bath, envisioning the perfect scenario but now, as you plunged your hand into your sopping underwear, none of that mattered. It was impossible not to think about the taste of Remus still on your lips as you rubbed frantic circles on your clitoris, your back arched, your mouth fell open as you moaned. As quick as the image of Remus had entered your mind, it was replaced with the memory of Severus’ firm grasp of you, the way he had manhandled you into submission. You balled the sheets in your fingers as you inserted one, then two fingers into your aching centre. Reaching up to your breasts, you rolled a stiffened nipple around your nimble fingers, squeezing it as you filled your cunt to the knuckle. You moaned with abandon, which presumably was the effect from the alcohol, but nevertheless, you fucked yourself thoroughly with your fingers. When you came, you cried out incoherently, a sound you had never heard yourself make before. You couldn’t picture one mans face over the other, imagining spilling their seed over your breasts, or deep inside you- you imagined both of them at once. It was sublime.

  The next seven days passed without incident. Remus wasn’t so much distant as perhaps guarded; there was no mention of the kiss you had shared, nor the strange pseudo-altercation between he and Severus. You pondered long hours in your warm chamber, the fire roared contentedly casting shadows that danced across the high walls. The mug of tea in your hand a reminder of home, your muggle parents had sent you a box of teabags for Christmas as part as a larger ‘care package’. Your mother had laughed when she handed you a largeish box filled with things like tea and crisps, you had even found some alcoholic miniatures and sweets from your youth tucked away at the very bottom. She had given you a smirk and said, ‘Sometimes magic can be found in the ordinary,’. You eyed the box carefully; it was incredibly thoughtful, and you relished it fervently. There was nothing you enjoyed more than curling up on your hardbacked armchair in front of the fire and rummaging through to be delighted in the muggle comforts from home.

  You had taken a Curly Wurly into the staff room that afternoon and nibbled on it idly as you mulled over a few student essays. Severus had entered with his usual flurry of dark robes and general unpleasantness and settled quietly into a corner. You hadn’t so much as looked in his direction since that night outside of your chamber, and he hadn’t looked at you either. That was, until you lifted your eyes to check the sizable grandfather clock, its pendulum swinging ominously on the second and found he was openly staring at you. His jaw was firmly set, and his brow furrowed once more. After a second, he blinked, like he had surprised himself by something akin to mild vulnerability. You followed his gaze, it wasn’t on you specifically, but on the long chocolate bar in your hand. You looked from your grasp to Severus’ face, he too seemed to shift his expression to meet your eyes, a fleeting sheepishness danced across his face as he swallowed with difficultly.   “I haven’t seen one of those in years,” Severus stated, his hands were clasped tightly in his lap. You brought the chocolate to your lips and took a bite, the caramel of the intricately woven design pulled away in long strands. You licked at the excess that settled on your lips, you watched with amusement as veins protruded in Severus’ neck. It was quite easy to forget that Severus himself was a half-blood, dragged rather than brought up in the muggle world.   “You’ve been missing out.” You replied quietly as you crossed your legs. Severus shifted in his seat, his robes flowed fluidly around him, a vision in black and white. The back of your neck seemed to warm as Severus’ dark eyes scoured your frame, his angular face could be dismissed as unappealing, but he had the stoicism of an innate marble statue, a roman god or some other. The closer you looked, and really looked, it was impossible to see him as anything other than he was, captivating. Severus seemed to notice the shift in your stature, the way your fingers tightened around the papers you still clung on to, the way the parchment bent and swayed under your gentle trembling.   “Perhaps I have.” He said darkly.

  That night, before you made your way to meet with Minerva and Pomona for your weekly outing you made a diversion toward the dungeons. Tucked neatly under your arm, was a brown padded envelope, usually suited for sending packages on long journeys. Instead, it was full to the brim of chocolate from your care package, all the things you knew you loved as a child that you imagined Severus would have enjoyed too. Your hand shook slightly as you knocked on the door to his office, it wasn’t particularly late, but you noted that he hadn’t made an appearance at dinner. When no sound came from the office, you gently pushed the door open. The room was as to be expected, dark and filled almost to bursting of various tomes and artefacts. You crossed the room hurriedly, anxious to not get caught out of bounds. You tried explicitly hard not to pry as you crossed over to Severus’ desk, it was surprisingly neat and left everything to the imagination. You placed the envelope on the desk, ensuring that the little note was safe inside before quickly turning and leaving it behind you.

  Remus hadn’t joined you that Friday, it was just the usual suspects. You had found it increasingly difficult to focus on the conversation that flowed freely between the two women. Your mind wandered back to two main thoughts; where was Remus and what was actually going on? And why Severus had suddenly deigned you worthy of his attention? It all seemed so impossibly twee; the idea that you found yourself rattled by the slightest attention of two men that you were almost angry at yourself. Besides, how many times had you crawled out of a stranger’s bed at the first wisps of daybreak? One little kiss shouldn’t be any different. Severus on the other hand hadn’t offered you anything more than a few long looks since that afternoon in the staff room, yet you were plagued with thoughts of the two men. Neither like any man you had encountered before, and yet so remarkably different in every way. Minerva, having noticed your long silence offered you a quizzical look.   “What’s troubling you?” She said pointedly, Pomona ceased talking immediately, and turned to face you with a look one could only describe as hunger. You shrugged and took a sip of your wine; you were desperate to not be as hungover this Friday. Your seventh years had proven to be quite difficult last week, and if you could do anything to not have a repeat of Jenkinson’s smart mouth affecting you so; you would. “Don’t presume to think I was born yesterday,” Minerva continued, her shoulders squared which made her look that inch more terrifying, “I can smell a rat a mile off.”    “I wouldn’t dare jump to any such conclusions. I am simply lamenting over my love-life, or lack thereof.” You replied, your expression sickly sweet which earned a maternal huff from the older woman. Pomona seemed to miss the small tete-a-tete and instead clapped her hands together with glee.   “I demand you tell us everything at once!”

  There was something of a comfort to be found in relaying the past week’s events to the witches, Minerva’s usually stern expression shifted into something softer as you told them everything except for the strange bottle Severus had delivered to Remus.   “Well, that is definitely something different,” she said after small silence, “Especially coming from Severus. I was beginning to think he didn’t have any manly urges.”   “Nonsense, Severus is a strapping young lad, nobody knows what he gets up to outside of the castle. I imagine two old biddies like us would certainly be the last to find out, in any case!” Pomona countered, she rested her chin against her palm, her face dreamlike as if imagining the brooding man’s sex life.   “And quite rightly so!” Minerva said, her tone was laced with embarrassed threat as she stood from the table and marched toward the door. And so, nothing more was said on the matter that night.

  The Saturday morning after your thankfully not-so-disastrous Friday lessons with your seventh years passed idly. You kept much to yourself, the weather was again near freezing, although most of the students had travelled into Hogsmeade. The castle was quiet, undisturbed, and as the next thick sheet of snow settled onto the grounds, you huddled close to your window to watch as in quick flurries the snowflakes settled onto a blanket of pure white. It wasn’t until the third knock at your door did you decide to stop pretending you weren’t in, whoever was on the other side was obviously very insistent and you wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself if there was an emergency. On the other side of the door stood a cheerful Remus, his hair was damp from the snow and his cheeks painted with pink from the chill. He looked every inch the dashing English countryman as he brushed stray snowflakes from his shoulders. You couldn’t explain the quickness of your heart as you invited him inside, the same thunderous heartbeat you had experienced that night in Hogsmeade returned in full force, and you cursed yourself for feeling so foolish.   “To what do I owe the pleasure?” You asked as calmly as you could as you summoned a teapot and a pair of mugs. Remus accepted the tea readily and wasted no time in settling close to the fire.   “I was on my way for a walk to the lake, and I wondered whether you wanted to join me?” It was hard to imagine that he held any ulterior motives as he reclined in your armchair, all red nosed and grins. It was alarming how quickly you agreed, despite taking no real pleasure from walking in the cold. Yet, you soon found yourself wrapped up warmly and struggling to keep pace with the tall man as he dodged expertly over the terrain. He was largely silent as you continued along the path to the lake, he offered a few beige commentaries on the weather and you responded with as much enthusiasm as you could muster. It was difficult, you found, to keep pace with the tall man. Remus’ long legs set his pace at twice the speed of yours, and after a while of trying to conceal your breathlessness, did he slow and offer his arm to you. You huddled close to him, it seemed as though his body radiated a warmth like an oasis in the desert. Remus untangled his arm from yours, instead deciding to hold your gloved hand instead; his fingers squeezed tightly around yours as the lake came into view. A few students littered the area in small groups, the sound of their merriment was enough to bring a smile to your face. It seemed like yesterday that you yourself were a student at Hogwarts; thirty was an ever-approaching nightmare that plagued your dreams daily, had it really been nearly thirteen years since you left the hallowed halls of Hogwarts and joined Gringotts as an apprentice Curse-Breaker?   “Penny for your thoughts?” Remus said, you glanced up at him, he wore a bemused look as you pushed the settled snow from a bench and delicately sat. Foolish as it was, seeing as now you were piss-wet through, the realisation that you were getting old had knocked you for six. Remus patted the seat next to you tentatively before he ultimately decided to join you.   “Do you ever feel like your life just runs away from you? Like one minute, you’re positively frazzled over Transfiguration homework and the next you’re stressed about how you’re going to afford so many weddings this year because suddenly, you’ve reached an age where everyone’s settling down and shitting out kids!” You bit hard on the inside of your cheek, you hadn’t meant to be so forward, certainly not with Remus, but he let out a great big laugh before turning to you animatedly.   “Exactly! It feels like I was just handed my Prefect badge and now-” He faltered; his gaze lifted to the heavens. A flash of pain danced across Remus’ face as he shook his head and swallowed whatever he was going to say. “I don’t remember you much from school.” You were surprised by that; you didn’t expect him to remember you at all; but you expected him to want to save face as you were colleagues.   “I’m not surprised, you had long left before I did anything interesting.” You said as you playfully bumped into his shoulder with your own.   “Ah yes, you mentioned the other night that Filch had caught you with a boy?” Remus’ raised the pitch of his voice as he tormented you, it was his turn to bump you. You covered your eyes with your hands and let out a great groan.   “Merlin, I’d hoped you would have forgotten that.”   “Not on your life. Now, I’m going to need you to tell me all the sordid details.”   “There’s nothing sordid…well, not that sordid, really,” You protested, you couldn’t stop the grin that formed on your lips, it was matched well with the smile that Remus wore. He gazed at you intently as you considered the best way to explain. “Filch caught me in the Forbidden Forest after curfew-”   “With a boy.”   “Yes, Remus, with a boy.” You sighed with faux exasperation; Remus looked near giddy as he clapped his hands.   “Fantastic, who were they? Do I know them? What were you doing?” He asked, each question filled you with feeling of stupidity, it was the single most mortifying moment of your life and you were willingly discussing it.   “Yes, you know them, and we were having an…intimate moment.” You hoped that would be enough to quell his questioning, but it appeared to only spur Remus on he appeared to be bouncing in his seat now.   “Please don’t make me go through a list of people from your year at school, what were you- three years younger than us?”   “Four.” You corrected. Remus seemed to consider this for a moment before his green eyes seemed to darken, and he smirked devilishly.   “I’ll tell you what. If I can guess who the lucky bloke was, you have to come for a drink with me. Tonight.   “And if you can’t?”   “I’m sure you’ll think of an appropriate forfeit.” Remus had brought his face extremely close to yours, you could feel his breath tickle your face. It would be so easy to close the distance, to press your lips to his, but a chorus of whooping from behind where the pair of you sat, shattered any illusions of intimacy. Remus turned toward the students sheepishly, he produced his wand and cast a spell that shook the trees which surrounded the lake, causing a cascade of snow to fall on the students. He stood and offered you his hand.   “Let me escort you back to your rooms, while I think. What house was he in?” He said, and you thought back to the wavy-haired blonde boy who tried to desperately hard to impress.   “Ravenclaw.”   “Hm. That slims the pickings down a bit.”

    Remus still hadn’t been able to guess correctly and when he was confident that he would need more time, he proposed a 24-hour extension. You had pushed him along the corridor with a laugh and a wave, fairly certain that he would ultimately find out about Lockheart, but the look of mischief on his face as he waved in return was such a far cry from the man that shuffled into dinner a week ago, you couldn’t help but be content. With almost a wistful air, you watched as he disappeared behind the corner until you turned to your chamber door. If it hadn’t been for your wet boots squelching heavily onto the stone floor, you would have entirely missed the folded parchment that lay slightly soggy having been thrust under the door in an apparent hurry. You took time to remove your outer layers, kicking your boots off and discarding them where you stood before you retrieved the parchment. You felt a heat rise from the base of your neck all the way up to your ears as instantly, you recognised the fluid handwriting etched across the page.

    I humbly thank you for your thoughtful offering. In return, I request your presence of a nightcap in my quarters this evening after dinner. The password is ‘tradite’, I shall expect you before nine o’clock.

Severus

    Keeping your head down during dinner was proving to be more difficult than you had initially imagined. You didn’t know what had possessed you, but underneath a billowy cloak was a figure-hugging-in-all-the-right-places muggle dress, it showed off your best assets yet left enough to the imagination. It was something you wouldn’t think twice about wearing if you were to go out with your muggle friends from your hometown, but here, amongst these wizards whose fashion choices were questionable at best, you felt like you stuck out like a sore thumb. You wondered if anyone would notice how closely you tugged the fabric of your cloak around your torso, desperate to hide what lay beneath. Remus certainly noticed there was something off with you, he had made an obvious beeline to the empty seat next to you and had tried to engage you in conversation many times, but the truth was plain as day; you felt guilty.

  Not even twelve hours ago had you been sat by the lake with Remus, and now with one invitation from Severus you were jittering like a schoolgirl who’d been asked to meet behind the quidditch stands. It wasn’t clear what it was about Severus exactly that returned you to a puddle of hormones, but you felt it as soon as you had been reintroduced as colleagues all those years later. Yet, hadn’t you felt that with Remus too? After replying to the sandy-haired man for the fourth time that you were fine, just tired, you grimaced into your bread-and-butter pudding. There was something about Severus’ invitation that triggered an excited itch along your skin, and only he would know how to scratch it. There was of course, the obvious question of what on earth constituted at a nightcap? Was he going to give you another warning about Remus? What about Remus? You hadn’t even considered what Severus had meant by his warning, you certainly hadn’t heard any stories about him being a womanizer, or ever having a partner for that matter. You pondered his scars as you tried, as deftly as you could, to get a good look at him from the corner of your eye. Remus was littered with them, whilst the scars across his face were quite pronounced, there weren’t many. But- the scars on his hands and forearms were numerous, there didn’t seem to be an inch of skin without a purple-silver line looking back at you. Maybe he was a fighter? He had played his part in the war, like you all had, but maybe his was a part that was especially dangerous? Perhaps, that’s what Severus meant after all. War changes people, Severus of all people should remember that.

  That didn’t stop you feeling guilty though. It ravaged away at your insides as you continued to push your spoon around your bowl, you had thought that perhaps after this morning, there was an avenue worth exploring with Remus. Now, as you watched Severus rise from the High Table and move stealthily along the lines of teachers, your stomach flipped, and your pulse quickened.   “Lupin.” Severus nodded as he passed, he didn’t say anything in acknowledgement to you, but you noticed the glance in your direction, the slight quirk at the side of his mouth. Soon, Severus had disappeared, and Remus scoffed.   “Boils my piss, he does,” he said as he took a hearty sip of his mead, the veins in his temple protruding slightly. “Lording over us like that, dickhead.” You were quite taken aback by Remus’ outburst; you had never known animosity between them before or since that night outside of your rooms. Nothing had been said, and you had put it down to you having had one to many and misconstruing the situation.   “He literally said your name.” You countered, not completely comfortable with Remus’ tone.   “Aye, and I want my name kept from his mouth, the greasy git.” You opened your mouth to respond yet thought better of it. Whatever it was that had transpired between the pair of them had nothing to do with you, and you couldn’t think of anything worse than having to pick sides. Especially since Severus had now taken an interest in you, something you had tried to make happen when you first started teaching but failed miserably. It was happening now, and Remus could be damned if you weren’t at least going to get to the bottom of this invitation.

  You didn’t bother to wait for the headmaster to call an end to dinner, instead you mumbled an excuse and moved quickly toward the dungeons. Despite having been a teacher for a number of years, there was something about the dungeons that filled you with dread. Whether it was the memories of your sheer mediocrity at potions, or consistently failing to be noticed by Professor Slughorn, there was something that set your teeth on edge. You passed your old potions classroom without looking in, it was almost like you could forget that that class existed, and pretend that of course, you were excellent at everything whilst you were at school. Severus’ rooms were hidden to anyone who wasn’t looking for them, a dark wooden door appeared out of the near blackness of the unlight stone and remained closed. Did you really want to do this? You had wrestled with the fact that you were potentially pissing any chance of anything happening with Remus while you pursued Severus. There was just something very hard to ignore about the potions master, something electrifying.   “Tradite.” You said clearly into the darkness, the click of a lock being turned was the only sound other than the distant almost muffled sound of the groaning lake. The door opened steadily, Severus’ chamber was warm, although, you weren’t quite sure if you were expecting the opposite. He stood with his back to the door, his head bowed and seemingly unaware of your arrival. You wondered whether he would appreciate a polite greeting; if he would want you to wait until he noticed you. After all, he had mentioned that he liked to have control in everything. That was a statement you had never questioned, it just seemed so perfectly fitting that you just took it at face value. It was the thoughts that were conjured alongside that, that you had to suppress.

  You weren’t entirely sure how long you waited, realistically, it couldn’t have been that long. But the steady stream of student’s footsteps returning to their common room was an indicator that it had probably been around five minutes.   “Why haven’t you said anything?” Severus asked after a while. It shocked you, you had completely glazed over, it hadn’t occurred to you that you were still just stood in the doorway. You cleared your throat.   “Didn’t want to disturb you.”   “How thoughtful.” He sneered, but you didn’t detect any malice behind it. Severus Snape was the undisputed king of dry humour and you willed that to be the case here. “Come in. Take off your cloak.” You did as you were bid, slipping the dark cloak from your shoulders, you allowed Severus to take it from you. You were acutely aware of his eyes on your body as he moved with a deft quietness and gestured for you to sit. His rooms, not so dissimilar to yours in layout were far larger and by comparison, full wall to wall with things. It wasn’t untidy, but a sort of organised chaos that endeared Severus to you. His interests and objects of his taste scattered almost peacefully, as if inviting you to take a look. You settled into the armchair by the fire, the fabric a worn Slytherin green leather which matched the sofa which sat opposite. The fire, which was still quite small spat embers behind the wrought hearth and sizzled contentedly to itself.   “Would you like some wine?” He asked from somewhere behind, “I have a lovely Pinot Noir.”   “That would be lovely, thank you.” You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being scrutinised, it wasn’t unlike the feeling of an interview; like he was somehow sizing you up. Although you couldn’t see him from where you were situated, the intense feel of eyes burning into the back of your head was unmistakable. Perhaps it was your intuition as a woman that allowed you to know that as you crossed one leg over the other and placed your hands elegantly on the armrests of the chair, that he noticed. But not only that, that he appreciated it.

  Severus made you wait for it. You heard him as he opened and closed cupboard doors, the clink of glass and the sound of a bottle being corked; it was all for the theatre of anticipation. You knew this, you had done this very thing time and time again in preparation but for what, with him- you couldn’t quite say. The same thrill that you had felt that night he had grasped your wrist returned fervently and your mouth salivated with need. Finally, he appeared within your line of sight. He too, had removed his outer layer, dressed smartly in his frock coat he lowered a glass half full of the ruby liquid, tapping his glass on the side of yours with cheers. Severus made his way painfully slowly to the sofa, he sat on the edge furthest from you and mirrored your position, one leg crossed neatly over the other. You hoped your proximity to the fire would account for the flush on your cheeks as you regarded this man, this studious and distant man as he considered your frame just as openly.   “Thank you for the invitation, Severus. I must admit, it was most unexpected.” Your voice was calm and unbroke, and you were thankful for it. Your heart thundered in your chest and you hoped upon hope that he couldn’t notice the slight tremble of your hand as you brought your wine glass to your lips. Upon reflection, talking with Remus was much easier than with Severus. There was just something so typically wholesome about him, which, when you remembered what he had been like as a young man in school seemed to make sense. But with Severus, there was something akin to danger, you didn’t necessarily feel like he would harm you, no- not at all; but there was always an edge to his words, a double meaning behind his looks. Like there was a joke that perhaps you didn’t understand, perhaps another meaning entirely.   “You’re very welcome. I wanted to thank you personally for your kindness.” He said, his dark baritone seemed most fitting within the confines of his personal space. Like suddenly all the pieces fit together and of course Severus would look and sound the way he did, wasn’t it obvious? “May I ask what you are thinking about? You wear a look of great consideration.” You smiled as demurely as you could muster at his questioning, why were you there if not to talk?   “I was thinking about you.” You said as plainly as you could, you were conscious not to give anything away in terms of exactly how you were thinking of the potions master. But in truth, it had been impossible not to think about him. Remus too. It appeared to be in the space of only a few days that any time you found your mind wandering, it wandered to these two men. Who they were exactly under the sturdy mask of professionalism, what they liked; did they like you?   “Me? Why?”   “I was thinking how nice it was to see you so relaxed, Severus.” You replied softly, you meant it too. A silence settled between the pair of you, and you wondered if you had overstepped the mark, whether that was too informal for his liking. Severus carefully wet his lips and pressed them together into a line. His usual measured look replaced with something else.   “If I may so bold-”   “I like bold.” He smirked as you interrupted him, you wished for him to say whatever it was that was on his mind. You longed to know whether you had consumed his thoughts as much as he had consumed yours.   “If I may be so bold,” Severus began again, his fingers tapping lightly on his thigh, drawing your attention briefly away from his angular face. You noticed for the first time how well structured his body was, his thighs were well proportioned to the width of his torso and seemed to fill his trousers pleasantly. “There’s nothing like a nice glass of wine and the view of a pretty girl to relax you.” He sipped his wine, his eyes never leaving your face. You hoped your expression didn’t betray how startled you felt. It was like your mind was blank, you had forgotten how to blink, how to breathe, just for a moment; you were malfunctioning.   “You think I’m pretty?” Severus smirked at you.   “I think you’re beautiful.”

  You sat in silence after that. Every fibre of your being was screaming at you to say something, to thank him for his compliment, to comment on the wine- anything. Instead, you stared uneasily into the fire, annoyed with yourself.   “Have I made you uncomfortable?” Severus asked breaking the silence, your head whipped in his direction. His expression seemed passive, but you noticed the slight downwards tilt of his mouth, as if he were to frown.   “Not in the slightest!” You said hastily, you set your wine onto the floor and clasped your hands in your lap. “I suppose I wasn’t expecting you to say something like that. It just caught me off-guard.” Severus barked a laugh in response and patted the sofa next to him, you rose quickly and moved across to him. You cursed yourself for appearing needy, eager to please, but the look of satisfaction on Severus’ face spoke volumes. He was pleased with you, and that made your insides flutter with warmth. He placed a hand tentatively on your knee as you sat down, you gasped at the contact, but his hand was warm and soft against your bare skin.   “You look radiant, this evening.” Severus hummed over the rim of his wine glass. There was something hypnotic about his movements, you watched with a desperate intensity as he did the most mundane things, like swill his glass or flick a piece of fluff from his jacket. This wizard had well and truly put a spell on you, and you were at his mercy.   “Thank you,” you answered after a while of staring at Severus. His bemused expression signalled that he knew exactly what was racing through your thoughts. “Did you enjoy your Curly Wurlys?” Severus really laughed at that, he placed the hand that had previously been held on your knee over his eyes and smiled. A rare and beautiful thing indeed, Severus’ Snape’s smile.   “I was most impressed by the assortment, things I had forgotten long about. It was very kind of you,” He stopped as if he needed to be careful with what he said next, “I wanted to repay you.”   “Your company is payment enough, Severus.”

It wasn’t until his hand reappeared this time on your thigh, that you noticed that you had turned your body toward him. Your leg slightly bent at the knee tucked under the other, your hips fully locked on the target.   “I had hoped you would say that.” Severus whispered, “I apologise if I’ve ever appeared standoffish toward you, I find it difficult to engage in small talk. I just don’t see the necessity.” You weren’t sure if he was allowing you to see some vulnerability, or whether he was just stating a fact, but you nodded your head all the same. “The truth is,” He continued, “I had always thought you were quite interesting. Even whilst we were students, you were fiercely kind and dare I say it, popular.”   “You remember me? I didn’t think that anybody would have ever taken any notice of me- back then at least. I was just a nobody.” You said softly as you offered Severus a smile. You were touched that he remembered you, or at least professed to. Its more than Remus could say for himself.   “So was I.” Severus statement stopped you in your tracks. It was no secret that he was mercilessly bullied in school, everybody knew of Snivellus. But, he was right, did anybody actually know him? You nodded in agreement, and he offered you a small smile, his hand giving your thigh a small squeeze.   “Does this mean we’re friends now?” You asked in a small voice, it was meant as a joke but the sentiment remained.   “I don’t have friends. Only allies and enemies.” Severus answered with another sip of wine. You swept your gaze over his face, finally settling on his onyx eyes, the way they bore into yours made you feel as if you were aflame.   “Which am I?”   “Neither. You are you. One couldn’t ask for anything better.”

  Severus slowly brought his lips to yours; his lips were soft and gentle as you shifted to gain a better purchase of his frame. Your hands travelled from his chest to his head, your fingers winding round the raven tresses of hair and he gasped into your mouth. He pulled you closer and as skilfully as you could, you straddled him- Severus hands firmly planted on your backside. He rubbed confident circles against the soft fabric, and you rolled your hips against his lap. It was delicious; the feeling of friction on your cunt was entirely welcome. It had been quite a while before it had seen any attention from anyone other than your own hand, the resigned feeling you had regarding the hold Severus had on you changed in to one of complete and utter want. He brought a hand up and cupped your breast through your dress, you hissed at the contact and Severus took advantage of the loss of your lips and began to kiss deeply along the side of your throat, taking sections of skin between his teeth and sucking hard. You were quite insistent in your actions, unabashedly grinding against Severus’ hardened cock. You could feel it, the way it strained against the fabric of his trousers. You couldn’t help the pathetic mewl that escaped your lips as Severus began to guide your hips, his lips turned into a snarl as with heavy lids he watched as you brought yourself to orgasm.   “Beautiful.” He whispered, lifting a lock of your hair and placing it behind your shoulder where he liberally placed kisses.

  Panting, you brought his lips to yours. Your hands fumbled down to where the clasp of his trousers was easily undone despite your trembling hands. He lifted his hips whilst you momentarily dismounted him to pull his trousers and underwear to his knees. His cock, thick and pink bobbed angrily against his pubic bone, almost as if it demanded your attention. You pressed forward again, your lips finding his with ease as he positioned you back over his lap, his cock pressed against your wetness. With a gruff murmur, your underwear was vanished and you groaned with anticipation. It was impossible to say where your moan began and his finished, but as Severus guided himself into you. You heard an unmistakable “Fuck,” against your shoulder, his grip was vice-like as with a great amount of effort you lifted your hips and began to ride him. It was probably naïve of you to assume that Severus would let you set the pace, after a few seconds of a disjointed rhythm, Severus held you in place; his hips pistoning up into your sopping sex like it was the last thing he’d ever do. You held tight to the back of the sofa, the pleasure was immeasurable, though your eyes were closed, a searing white light seemed to envelop you.   “So fucking tight. I knew you would be.”

  You had never been fucked like this before, this sort of desperate rutting was something you assumed only happened in films where the lovers would be separated by war or ruin. Not, as you found out, by the loner potions professor. It was exhilarating, the feeling of his member pounding into you, the way the slight curve of his cock seemed to grace every spot inside you, it didn’t seem possible to reach any deeper within you; but as he pushed you backwards away from his chest, he burrowed himself further in still.   “Oh god, you’re going to make me come.” You managed to say, his thrusts were short and sharp and quite unrelenting. His brow was furrowed and a sheen of sweat glistened on his skin in the candlelight. He snarled at you then and tossed you to the side, your back landing onto the sofa with a thud. Your cry of shock came out strangled as no sooner had he withdrawn from you, he delved right back into your aching cunt.   “If I’m going to make you come,” Severus grunted, his hand around your throat, “Then you’re going to look me in the eye while I do it. I want to see your face as you come all over my cock.” You shivered under the weight of the sheer eroticism of his words. The feeling of his hand on your pressure point was blissful, being so utterly at another’s mercy wasn’t like anything you had experienced before. It was freeing, purifying…you loved it.

   The tight coil in the pit of your stomach began to unfurl, as with raspy moans, you came hard. Your orgasm seemed to last an eternity, your body rocking with the motion of Severus’ thrusting but also with the throbbing and twitching your used cunt. Severus’ hand squeezed tightly around your throat as he came, his movements becoming shallower and slower. He collapsed onto you in a heap, his head on your chest and your arms around him unquestioningly. You stayed like that for a while, your eyes closed as you blissfully travelled from alert to sleep and back, tracing lazy circles on Severus’ back. It was Severus who moved first in the end, he grappled for his jacket and produced his wand, he pointed it at you and muttered a spell you didn’t understand. But the sudden feeling of dryness and warmth that flooded between your thighs, you safely assumed he had cleaned you. You pushed up from your spot warily, sheepishly almost. Severus was across the room from you now, rebuttoning his clothes and smoothing down his hair. You watched him for a while, your head cocked to the side. Severus seemed to move in such a graceful yet detached way, his movements were precise, but it was clear that he was thinking about anything but the action. You wondered what he was thinking about now.   “Can I help clear up?” Severus’ head shot in your direction, he offered you a strained smile as you waited for his reply. He gathered your cloak and held it out for you to slip on. Did that mean he wanted you to go? After everything that just happened? Wordlessly, you slid your arms into the waiting holes and stood. For what exactly, you couldn’t be sure.

   “I have a prior engagement,” he said flatly, you tried not to look shocked, but you suspected you failed. “I’m sorry, are you well?”   “Quite. Thank you, Severus.” Was all that you said, as with cheeks flaming with embarrassment you willed your legs to push onwards toward the door. If he called after you, you didn’t notice as with laborious steps you made your way back to your chamber. The castle was deathly quiet now, even the ghosts had disappeared to their various dark corners for the night. This was why, when you rounded the corridor to your rooms, the lone figure waiting outside gave you a fright. Your face was still hot from the exertion of the sex and the embarrassment as Severus all but threw you out on your ear. Hot tears threatened to brim over, Merlin, why had this affected you so?

  “Remus?” You whispered into the darkness; the figure moved toward the sound of your voice. One step, and then another into the candlelight and his face was visible. He looked sallow, much like he had that night in the Great Hall.   “I’ve been knocking for ages. I was worried about you during dinner. You were acting really weird.” It was then that Remus noticed your dishevelled appearance, the marks on your neck but not least, the look of pain on your face. “Are you alright?” You nodded solemnly and made toward the door to your chamber, the guilt that had dissipated whilst you were in Severus’ presence now resurfaced as you regarded Remus’ concerned face. With your hand on the doorknob, you turned to him, all green eyed and sandy-haired Remus and smiled sadly.   “Do you want a cup of tea? I need to tell you something.”

#Severus Snape #Remus Lupin #Severus Snape x Reader #Remus Lupin x Reader #Severus Snape x Reader x Remus Lupin #Snape x Reader #Lupin x Reader #harry potter reader insert

[searchingwardrobes]

Ivory Runs Red: 4/6

Just look at this cover art by @cocohook38 !!!!! Isn’t it amazing? I just can’t stop staring at it. She is so talented and spent so much time working on this, please head over to her blog and give her some love. 

This chapter is sort of a bridge chapter (no pun intended) where we begin to discover connections between all the characters. Belle especially is tied to Emma in a surprising way. 

Massive thanks again to my beta @demisexualemmaswan​ and everyone in the @cssns​ !

Summary: When ebony flashes gold, blood runs cold. When ivory runs red, you’ll be dead. Killian Jones had heard the old rhyme his entire life. Every child did in Storybrooke, Maine. They heard it whispered in the dark at sleepovers as children; taunted as a challenge as teenagers. Killian never believed it was actually true. Until that fateful night …

Rated M for graphic depictions of violence, abusive relationships, and major character death (I mean, it’s a ghost story ya’ll, people are dead. BUT I promise, there is a happy ending. Trust me? *peeks from around a corner*)

Length: 6 chapters, complete, updated every Friday

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three

Also on Ao3

Tagging the usuals: @snowbellewells @whimsicallyenchantedrose @kmomof4 @xhookswenchx @let-it-raines @bethacaciakay @tiganasummertree @shireness-says @stahlop @scientificapricot @spartanguard @welllpthisishappening @resident-of-storybrooke @thislassishooked @ilovemesomekillianjones @kday426 @ekr032-blog-blog @lfh1226-linda @ultraluckycatnd @nikkiemms @optomisticgirl @profdanglaisstuff @ohmakemeahercules @carpedzem @branlovestowrite @superchocovian@hollyethecurious @vvbooklady1256 @winterbaby89 @delirious-latenight-laughs @jennjenn615 @snidgetsafan @itsfabianadocarmo @lassluna @distant-rose @courtorderedcake @winterbythesea @thesschesthair @killian-whump @thisonesatellite @batana54 @it-meant-something @xsajx @therooksshiningknight @gingerchangeling​

Chapter Four: Red

“Neal Gold,” Belle said, her voice trembling with excitement, “no wonder it got covered up.”

Belle struggled with an ancient tome on the top shelf in the library’s genealogy room, and Killian rushed to help her. When they set it atop the metal desk nearby, a cloud of dust billowed up. The genealogy room was hidden away in the basement too. 

“I still can’t believe Graham went to the bridge,” Belle continued. He’d never seen her so giddy with excitement. “This will show everyone Killian! You aren’t crazy!”

Killian nodded weakly. He knew it was true, and he knew that Graham getting Neal’s last name from Emma was a huge break for them, but he was starting to worry. He wanted to help Emma by solving her murder, but he also didn’t want to lose her. Didn’t ghosts linger because they had unfinished business? If he, Belle, and Graham, took care of Emma’s unfinished business, then would she . . . what? Move on to paradise? Cease to exist?

“Killy, did you hear what I said?” 

He shook the thoughts from his head and focused on Belle who stood over the huge book, her finger pointing to its binding. 

“Um, sorry. What did you say?”

“I tried to look up Swan, Emma, but the entire S section is missing.”

Belle’s fingers ran along the torn edges of several pages. Killian ran his hand wearily down his face. 

“Of course it is. So no birth certificate there either.”

“Wait a minute!” Belle exclaimed. “We know she died in 1894, and we know she was sixteen years old.”

“Which means she was born in 1878. We figured that out already. But the birth certificates from that entire year are also missing, remember?”

Belle nodded. “Yes, yes, the Gold family had money and power and were very thorough, but they may not have thought about baby announcements.”

Killian grinned. “Parents put baby announcements in the newspaper! Belle, you’re a genius!”

They ran down the short hallway to the microfilm room. Belle quickly pulled out the film for 1878 and put it in the machine. Once they figured out where the social section of the paper was located, they were able to scroll fairly quickly. And then - there it was. Just a few short lines: 

David and Mary Margaret Swan are pleased to announce the birth of their daughter, Emma Eva Swan, on October 22nd, 1878 at three o-clock in the afternoon. She is welcomed by her paternal grandmother, Ruth Elizabeth Swan, and her maternal grandfather, Leopold Blanchard.

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“David and Mary Margaret,” Emma whispered. 

Killian tightened his hold around her shoulders and brushed a kiss against the crown of her head. “They were your parents.”

Emma nodded slowly, and he watched her facial expression under the light of the waning moon. He could practically see happy memories light up her face. 

“I remember them,” she whispered. “We didn’t have a lot of money, but we were very happy. We lived on a farm.”

She dropped her head onto Killian’s shoulder and let out a contented sigh. They remained that way for a long moment, silently watching the stars twinkle overhead. 

“She had a beautiful smile,” Emma told him quietly, “and he used to cup my head so tenderly whenever he hugged me. That’s all I remember, though. Their faces are even fuzzy in my memory.”

“I’m sorry.”

She turned in his embrace so she could look him in the eye. “Don’t be. I wouldn’t remember anything if it weren’t for you. Thank you, Killian.”

She pulled his head down gently so she could press her lips to his. They lost themselves in the passion of their kisses.

***********************************************************

Killian sat with Belle once again in the library’s musty basement. Books with cracked leather bindings were piled around them: genealogy records, property records, and marriage certificates. With names and the information that Emma grew up on a farm, they were able to piece together the history of the Swan and Gold families. 

There was no evidence, however, of the Swan’s reporting their daughter was missing. In fact, aside from the birth announcement in the paper, there was no evidence that Emma Swan had existed at all. Everytime they got close, records were conveniently missing. Pages had clearly been torn out of several books, and years worth of Storybrooke Mirror and Portland Press articles were missing from the microfilm records. 

“It’s so obvious, though,” Belle exclaimed in frustration, slamming yet another large book shut. “Neal Gold falls in love with Emma Swan, a poor farmer’s daughter. His family would never approve of the relationship, so he never plans on marrying her. She’s just a good time to him.”

“I’m still a little grossed out by how old he was,” Killian muttered. 

Those records hadn’t been missing. Neal Gold was absolutely, unequivocally twenty nine years old when he met fourteen year old Emma Swan. Which made him thirty one when he got her pregnant and murdered her. 

Disgusting. 

“Belle? Did you hear me?”

His friend had gone completely pale, her finger frozen in the center of a yellowed page. Killian got up and leaned over her shoulder. 

“What’s this?”

She flipped the heavy leather volume back to the cover with a deep sigh. Killian leaned further over his shoulder and read the title out loud. 

“The Life, Impact, and Genealogy of Storybrooke’s Founding Family: The Golds. Well that’s not pretentious at all,” he snorted. Belle giggled. “By -”

He cut off, reeled back, and looked at Belle, who nodded in affirmation. “By Roderick Gaston?”

“There’s more,” Belle told him, flipping back to the page that had left her frozen. 

It was a family tree, and Killian scanned it quickly. At the top was Robert Gold, the founder of Storybrooke, with his wife Milah’s name beside his. Below that, it listed their only son: Neal Gold. He married Tamara Gold in 1894, the same year Emma died.

“Well, there’s another motive for murder,” Killian murmured, “not only did he get a teenager pregnant, he was cheating on his fiance.”

“Keep going,” Belle whispered. 

Neal and Tamara had three children: Bonnie, Felix, and Gretchen. The oldest daughter, Bonnie, had married Roderick Gaston, and they had two sons: Lewis and Mitchum Gaston.

“Wait - isn’t Mike’s dad Mitch Gaston?”

“Yes,” Belle told him softly, “and I met his grandfather once, too. His name is Roderick. I never put two and two together before, but the man was the worst snob. He kept asking who my people were and going on and on about how the Gaston’s were connected to Storybrooke’s finest families.”

“So this means that your boyfriend -”

“Is the descendant of Emma’s murderer.”

*******************************************************

“Where the hell are you going?”

Killian jumped at the sound of his brother’s voice. He whirled away from the back door to find Liam standing in the kitchen with the phone in his hand. Killian could hear the loud, grating beeping of the line as it went dead. 

“Who were you talking to at 3 am?” Killian shot back. 

Liam narrowed his eyes then slowly put the phone back onto the receiver that hung on the wall. He took his time untangling the long cord before turning back to face Killian.

“Something’s happened, little brother.”

Liam’s voice was so full of fear, shock, and sadness that Killian didn’t even bother correcting him on the little brother label. 

**********************************************************

The girl in the hospital bed couldn’t possibly be Belle. Her eyes were wild and darted around the room, her hair was a tangled mass around her face, and when she saw Killian she began to scream. 

“I saw her, Killy! The ghost! The blood, the blood, the blood . . .” 

Orderlies ran in and grabbed her before she could lunge from the bed. She fought them tenaciously, her back arching and her eyes rolling back in her head.

“Ivory runs red, ivory runs red. He’s dead, he’s dead.” She started to laugh maniacally as one orderly managed to get a syringe into her veins. They wrestled her to the bed and strapped her down, but she continued to speak, her words slurring. “He’s dead, dead, dead.”

She arched her back one more time, mumbling about ivory and red, shaking her head back and forth. Then she began to say the rhyme they had learned as children, singing it to a morbid little tune. 

“When ebony flashes gold, blood runs cold. When ivory runs red, you’ll be dead.”

Killian felt the blood rush from his head, leaving his skin cold in the sterile room as he watched Belle’s breaths even out. He knew the kinds of drugs running through her veins, God did he know. He also knew no one would believe her. 

Mike Gaston was dead, and Killian couldn’t muster a modicum of grief. 

#cs ff #captain swan ff #cssns21 #captain swan supernatural summer #horror #ghost story #strange lieutenant duckling #lol just trust me #happy ending of sorts

[nurseofren]

I haven't been able to stop thinking about Philip Altman since that little chat on Discord this afternoon. What if he found out about his girlfriend's obsession with Kylo Ren and fucked her while making her call him Commander/Supreme Leader?? (sorry if this is request is a mess. i'm a mess rn)

Title: A Phillip Altman Halloween

Relationship: Phillip Altman x Reader

Summary: Phillip wants to make up for his reaction to finding out your obsession with Kylo Ren, and he’s a bit... inspired.

Words: 2.6k

Tags: role play, begins with angst, Oral sex (F receiving), delayed orgasm, degradation, PIV sex, choking, bruising.

ST Rambles: This request has existed for MONTHS, and I had the thought to implement it for Halloween. Because like, why not? It’s fun and cute and timely. I think this is the first one shot that I’ve given a decent amount of plot? Anyway, I hope you enjoy and that it is not too corny (:

--

“Hey, Philly? Your sister called and asked if we could take the kids trick-or-treating tomorrow,” you called through the house, setting your keys in the collection bowl. “I told her we would. I hope that’s okay.”

The door clicked shut when you reached to sift through the pile of mail stacked on the credenza’s corner. It was nothing important, just mindless political ads and local festivity promotions.

“Philly? You hear me?”

“And then Kylo Ren thrust his entire, throbbing length into your pussy in one. Fluid. Movement.”

Astonishment captured your every vein with every over-exaggerated word that came from Phillip’s nearing voice. Your thoughts raced, thinking back to the last time you’d used your tablet, trying to remember if you’d exited your most recent AO3 tab before putting it away earlier.

“This, though, this is my personal favorite part,” Phillip came into view, sauntering through the living room, your tablet held in one hand while his other gesticulated.

“Phillip Altman! Stop right now!” you seethed, feeling your dignity slip away as you rushed him.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey!” He held his hand out and struck you with that heart-stopping smile of his. He continued to back away with every step you took, voice half-giddy at the sight of your attempt towards intimidation. “With his gloved hand wound tight to your throat, cock twitching inside your soaked cunt - fucking shit, babe--” Phillip shook his head in disbelief, face still beaming at you “--the Supreme Leader fucked you until the only thing you could process was the sensation of his cum-,”

“Phiilip. Stop. Now.” You walked him against the couch, reaching for the tablet only for him to step up from the floor and onto the cushion.

“Let me finish!” There was nothing but pure, shocked joy tensing his words now. His free hand raised to keep his balance when he next spoke. “The sensation of his cum filling you and seeping down your inner thighs, all the while-,”

“NO!” you shrilled, stepping up on the couch cushion and making a swing for the device he was reading from. To no avail, Phillip lifted his arm away and blocked you from taking the tablet from his grasp.

A string of hearty, deep howls of laughter interrupted his reciting of your most recent fictional endeavor before he could continue. “All the while, the vibrations of the hilt of his alight weapon sending shocks of pleasure from your clit all. The. Way. To your toes.”

“You’re such a fucking dick!” You pushed against his chest and smacked the side of his arm with the intent to harm him. “What is wrong with you?” 

Phillip lowered his arm and offered you back your tablet, your fingers snatching it away from him and tucking it below your arm. He looked down at you and attempted to cup your face, only for you to slap away his touch. His brow furrowed and his mouth twitched.

A short, breathy laugh left him. “Hey, you know I’m just teasing, right?”

“I don’t really care, you know that, right?” Acrid hate flooded your tongue. He’d invaded your privacy and taken something you deemed rather sacred and made fun of it. He was a jerk. You could barely stand the sight of him right now. “I’m sleeping in the guest room tonight-,”

“Oh, come on, babe! I’m sorry, I just never thought you were into-,”

“Do not talk to me right now.” You hopped off the sofa and started toward the stairs. “You need a costume for tomorrow. Your nephews asked that their favorite uncle take them around the neighborhood for candy.” A grunt of frustration left you before you passed the threshold into the plain spare room. “It’s too bad they’re not old enough to know how much of a fucking ass their uncle really is!” 

With probably too much force the door slammed shut and shook the hanging photographs against the wall, your flop onto the bed not helping the matter. For whatever reason it really stung that he’d taken it upon himself to so entirely dismiss something so special to you. He may not have meant it, but he’d been cruel. And the only thing that would heal the wound was time and distance, so you curled under the down comforter and willed yourself to sleep, no matter if it was only six in the evening. 

--

Wendy backed out of the driveway and waved through her window before leaving view. You stood on the front porch and returned the gesture, inwardly dreading heading back inside. Yes, Phillip and you still took the kids trick-or-treating, but there had been scant exchanges of words throughout the day. Phillip had struck a nerve, and you weren’t ready to forgive him for it.

A few more moments longer you found yourself dawdling in the cool October air, but eventually, reluctantly, you took a deep breath and made your way to the master to grab some pajamas for the night. Finding the room vacant, not knowing where Phillip had disappeared, you opted to change there. A pair of black lace boy shorts found their way around your waist before you went to grab one of Phillip’s shirts from the drawer.

“You won’t be needing that.”

A gloved hand encroached upon your forearm, finger and thumb grasping around your wrist so the remaining three pushed the drawer closed. 

“Phillip, stop, please. I don’t want to fuck you right now.” You shook his hand away and twisted to face him, tucking the shirt under your arms to conceal your bare chest. When you caught first glance of him, you didn’t know whether to scream or laugh.

“Who’s Phillip?”

He’d gone as a half-assed Batman earlier, but without the faux abs and the plastic mask, all that remained was an all black ensemble, complete with the floor-length cape, a pair of leather gloves, and a new addition of a rigid line drawn over the right side of his face, starting over his eyebrow and scraping down his neck. He’d even gone as far as to buff out the edges and blend it into his skin. 

“You look...”

“Tell me,” he huffed, brushing a thumb along the taut edge of the t-shirt, “how does your Supreme Leader look?” 

“Phillip, what are you-,”

Two long, gloved, hot fingers hooked over your tongue and pressed to the back of your throat, only pulling back when you gagged on his fingertips. A whimper left as your arm sprung up to take hold of his wrist, stunned by his actions and completely forgetting the shirt you’d been using to conceal yourself. It fell to the floor with a soft whisper of its weight.

“Have some respect,” he slipped his remaining hand along the curve of your side, warm leather sliding with ease and stealing your breath. “You are speaking to the ruler of the entire First Order, after all.” That hand found its way to the base of your breast, fingers cradling it before his thumb wound a circle around your stiffened nipple.

It made you shudder, not only his touch, but how different he really did seem. There was a sense of dedication to the role he’d assumed, something haunting about how demanding he was being. The thought made your insides clench, achingly aware by how hollow you felt. You needed him - Phillip? Kylo? - inside of you, to feel him buried in you and revel in the way he made you feel so complete.

“Now, be a good girl and lie back on the bed.” Those two fingers left your tongue and fell in line with his hand as it momentarily squeezed your throat, holding you for a moment so he could lock you in his stare.

If he was committing to the scene, it only made sense that you should too, right? “Yes, Supreme Leader.”

You crawled up so you could rest against the pillows, hands cradled below your neck and eyes tracking his every movement. Though you tried to contain it, a smile crinkled your eyes.

“You know, this is really swee-woah!”

Phillip grasped both your ankles and dragged you down so your hips were at the edge of the bed. He knelt between your legs, eyeing you from the floor, your elbows digging into the mattress so you could see him.

A hand first smoothed up your calf and led its way under your knee, a thumb stroking your thigh when he was pleased with his hold.

“What did I tell you, officer?”

His voice was so low, so close to unrecognizable; it stole your smile and flooded your veins with adrenaline. A gasp parted your lips, his brow lifting in expectation. “Lie back.”

His other hand reached up to your sternum and pressed you down, wandering again lower to your folds, two seams petting over the supple skin. It felt like heaven, the warm gloves and the pressure of his touch. And maybe you would have said it was, only for him to part you and drag one over and around your clit.

The grip over your thigh tightened to keep you from moving, your hips bucking up at the seam’s sensation. A whine, small and grunted, left, your face growing hot when you felt the tip of his nose press into your inner thigh.

Phillip hummed, a growl, fingers dipping lower so he could coat them in the fluid dripping from your cunt. Fingertips teased your entrance, barely pushing into you. A grunt vibrated against your skin, his nose trailing to our mound before he breathed in a glutton of your scent.

“Don’t stop, Phillip,” you plead, nudging your hips into his face, wanting more. Begging for more.

Two slicked fingers pushed into you in full; it choked you, the sudden sensation of him inside. He didn’t let you get a word out before mouthing at your clit, the tip of his tongue circling it before he took you between his teeth and teased. Your fingers flew to his hair, nails scraping at his scalp and pulling him into you.

The hand wrapped around your leg unhinged your fingers from his head, thumb pressing pain into your palm. You winced, his thumbnail biting a crescent into your skin, the ache intensifying the pleasure between your legs.

“So desperate,” he drawled, rocking his fingers into your core at a devastating pace, so slow and paced it burned at your sanity. “Sit up, I want to see you say my name.”

You obeyed, keeping your legs parted, looking down at him. His cheeks were flushed, mouth glistening with your want, the fingers latched around your hip leather-wrapped and stinging. The sight of his fingers pushing into you sent your head back for a moment, feeling him press into you at the perfect spot. You moaned, soon seething when he bit the flesh of your inner thigh.

Your focus fled back to him, a smirk acknowledging your attention before it grazed down to your slit. “What’s my name, again?”

His fingers were taunting, crooking just right to leave you flayed on the edge. You were so close, his breath washing over you in its proximity, the ghosted sensation tingling down your spine. He watched you, listened for absent words, the faux-scar on his face convincing in the low light. 

“If you want to cum, you’ll say it,” Phillip’s tongue trailed his bottom teeth, “or is the slut at a loss for words?”

Every nerve lit at the term, your hand reaching toward his face to thumb at the scar. The way his hair fell, the cape pooled at his feet, the tease of his tongue glinting in the light; it all combined to push you toward belief. It warmed through you, seeing him for what he wanted to be for you. Pushing your hand through his hair, fingertips lingering under his chin, you fell into what he was offering.

“No, Kylo, I would never disrespect my Supreme Leader in such a way.”

There was a heavy need in your tone, Phillip’s face lighting for half a second before he quickened his machinations and brought his lips back to your pussy. He laved at you, circling and crossing and - you regarded eventually - spelling the words “Kylo Ren” over the flourishing nerves.

He could see you gearing toward climax, feel it in the way your cunt squelched with each push of his hand. You saw him consider something for a moment, a surge of cleverness ignite his features. And then he stopped. Every movement gone, his fingers absent, your body searching for where the promise of fulfillment had gone.

“What the hell? Phil-,”

His mouth took yours when he leaned over you, his hands pushing his pants down. He groaned when his cock bobbed free, hitting the insides of your thighs, his hand claiming your neck and pushing you down onto the mattress. The slowed blood flow dizzied you, his lips rapturous as both of your groaned into each other.

His remaining hand clasped onto your hand and locked your arm above your head. The shock of his grip made you grimace, a haunting sense of pleasure behind each new ache. Soon, though, you could only focus on how he thrust his entire length into you, your back arching into him, a grating cry echoing into his mouth.

“You want me to fill you up, huh? Little fucking whore, want your last thought to be of my cum leaking out of you?”

“Yes, yes Kylo!” The thought catalyzed your climax, skin singing for release with each of his thrusts, legs quaking with anticipation.

“What do you say?” Each word came between a breath, hands biting harder into both fixed positions, your head spinning and hand throbbing.

“Please!” 

“Who’s cum do you want?”

“Yours, Supreme Leader. God, it’s all I want, fucking shit, please, please!”

He hand left right as your brain flooded with pleasure, muscles locking, eyes rolling back, lips parting and orgasm fleeing. His hips stuttered and he cried out along with you, your tight cunt milking him for every drop of cum he had to offer. His lips met yours with a sloppy, breathy plead of a kiss; his hands now cradling your head.

An overwhelming push to mirror his actions stole your breath, hands flying into his hair and pulling him that much closer, feeling his cock slip free from you and streak spend over your belly. He grunted when your legs locked around his waist.

Kisses slowed and you found yourself smoothing your thumbs over his temples, looking over the sweat at his brow. This wasn’t Kylo anymore, this was too sweet. This was the Phillip you knew. The Phillip you loved.

He observed you with the same fondness you were him, his hand brushing back your hair. “Mm, sorry.”

It took you from bliss. “What are you talking about?”

Phillip sighed, kissing the tip of your nose before he continued. “I was an ass yesterday. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Phillip Altman knew exactly how to apologize. “All is forgiven... Supreme Leader,” you lowered your voice to imitate Kylo Ren, the two of you laughing for a few seconds before finding each other in adoration.

“Oh, and sorry.” A knowing smirk took root in his features.

“Phillip, what-.”

“No lightsaber for your clit?” His brow lifted in suggestion, your tongue circling your canine.

You pulled him down into one last deep kiss, bringing your lips to his ear when you unlocked from him.

In the faintest whisper, your tongue first following the curve of his helix, you taunted him.

“My vibrator is in my top drawer.”

#phillip altman #phillip altman x reader #phillip altman x you #phillip altman smut #phillip altman imagine #adam driver imagine #a phillip altman halloween #smut #fluff #angst

[lostcoves]

ft. asahi azumane x fem!reader

genre: angst

wc & warnings: 3.9k | violence, graphic imagery, guns, blood, murder, death

premise: it’s 1987. asahi azumane’s friend sawamura daichi has vanished. alone and confused, asahi feels helpless until he saves a mysterious girl who may have the answers to his friend’s disappearance.

note: my piece for @haikcore​’s fall into the past collab! this is officially my longest fic to date! i hope you all enjoy!

october 1987

asahi azumane’s final semester as a third year high school student began. butterflies fluttered about his stomach at the thought of completing high school. he had no plan, no clue what he would do after high school.

asahi didn’t have many friends at school minus sawamura daichi and sugawara koshi. they were the three musketeers; always hanging out after school and at one another’s houses. yet, tragedy struck during fall break.

sawamura- or daichi, no one called him by his last name- upped and vanished one day, leaving asahi and the town of tachinan in a state of confusion.

sugawara and asahi drifted apart after that, daichi was the glue of the friendship and without him.. there was no three musketeers.

asahi entered his final semester of high school alone and afraid for his best friends.

school was hard enough with his friends but without them, asahi felt as if he was floating through a sea of uncertainty. people were scared of him for his size and appearance when he really was the human equivalent to a teddy bear. no use making friends when he looked like a monster.

asahi made a mad dash to his house after the first day of the new semester. there was no purpose in hanging out afterwards. head hung low, asahi’s mind wandered off to thoughts about daichi. whatever happened to his friend?

“look what we found, boys! the dragon princess herself, all by her lonesome!” a cackling voice caught asahi’s attention. under the bridge he stood on, there was a group of juvenile punks cornering a poor defenseless girl. the girl with her shiny (h/c) hair and bright (e/c) eyes assumed a defensive position, ready to fight. but asahi knew she couldn’t take on all those gangsters alone.

“nice tits she got, too!” that was the final straw. asahi leapt off the bridge and landed on the body of the head gangster. he didn’t know what came over him, asahi just started beating the shit out of the punk with everything he had.

“woah, woah, woah!” the girl exclaimed, “i think you did enough, big guy. look at him now.”

asahi looked down at the head gangster, his nose broken and bleeding with his eyes swollen purple and red. he stared at his fists, soaked in the gangster’s blood.

“scram!” the remaining punks scattered about and abandoned their leader. with his strength, asahi hoisted the gangster off the ground and slammed against the wall of the bridge’s underside.

“don’t harass women, asswipe,” asahi grunted before tossing the gangster to the ground. the gangster got up and scurried away, leaving asahi alone with the girl.

“i coulda handle that,” the girl commented to asahi with a huff, arms crossed.

“a ‘thank you’ would have been enough,” asahi fired back with a sigh, “no one could have handled all of those punks.”

the girl uncrossed her arms and placed them on her hips, “maybe you’re right so.. thanks, i guess.”

“lemme walk you home,” asahi offered.

the girl pondered on his offer before replying, “okay, you can walk me home.. what’s your name?”

“asahi. asahi azumane.”

“nice to meet you, asahi. hironaka (y/n) is my name but i prefer that folks just call me (y/n),” the girl- hironaka (y/n)- introduced herself to asahi.

hironaka.. why did that name sound so familiar? asahi thought to himself. he shook the thought off and asked, “where do you live?”

“just down the road,” (y/n) pointed down the street. asahi narrowed his eyes, that road led to some of the nicest homes in tachinan. nonetheless, asahi smiled and extended his hand to (y/n), “let’s get going.”

a flicker of hesitation crossed (y/n)’s face but she took asahi’s hand. asahi and (y/n) walked down the street, making small talk to pass the time.

“so how did you end up getting cornered? you don’t seem like the type that would let that happen,” asahi noted.

“they caught me off guard when i was trying to head home from school,” (y/n) answered, a frown on her face.

“i see,” asahi pressed his lips together. he hoped that you wouldn’t have to face anymore trouble, “they’re scum for attacking you.”

“agreed,” a chuckle escaped her lips. (y/n) stopped walking, “this is my place.”

asahi looked up and his jaw dropped to the ground. (y/n)’s house was huge! traditional but well built, asahi couldn’t help but admire its design. he cleared his throat and turned his attention back to (y/n), “your home is.. er, lovely?”

“thanks,” she replied. (y/n) went to leave but paused. she turned back around and embraced asahi gently, asahi nearly choking from the close contact. (y/n) pulled away and smiled, “thanks for being my knight in shining armor.”

“o- of course!” he stammered, cheeks red. (y/n) giggled and waved goodbye before disappearing into the house. 

asahi waved her off, a giddy look on his face. what a nice girl, he hoped to see her around.

little did asahi knew that it would be sooner than expected.

─────────────────

asahi left school the moment the bell dismissed him from his final class. with a bounce in his step, he made his way out of the school and promptly ran into the largest man he ever saw.

“oh!” he jumped back, flustered. asahi looked up at the man and bowed respectfully, “i’m so sorry for bumping into you.”

another man appeared, then another, and then more. asahi gulped at the realization that he was surrounded by men that vividly resembled gangsters. the man he ran into grabbed him by the collar and growled, “this is what you get for messing with the dragon princess.”

dragon princess?

a punch was thrown, the man’s fist colliding with asahi’s face. another punch and a few kicks later, asahi was left crumbled up on the ground as a bloody mess. the gangsters surrounded him and went for the kill shot when a familiar voice stopped them.

“leave him alone!”

“(y/n)..?” asahi croaked, spitting up blood. (y/n) soared out of nowhere and dropkicked the head gangster. the gangster took the kick like a man and (y/n) did a backflip, landing on her feet.

“guys, asahi saved me yesterday!” (y/n) yelled at the gangsters, “i don’t know what father told you but asahi is a friend not a foe!”

the tense aura dissipated, as the gangsters exchanged sheepish looks. the head gangster kneeled before asahi apologetically, “apologies, sir.”

“it’s.. uh.. okay,” asahi answered, wiping the blood off his face. (y/n) helped asahi up and brushed the dust off his uniform. she sighed and patted asahi on the cheek, “sorry about that, asahi.”

“and they are..?” asahi gestured to the gangsters questioningly.

“men from my father’s.. organization,” (y/n) answered nervously. then it clicked inside asahi’s mind.

“hironaka.. wait, you’re the dragon princess!” asahi gawked at (y/n), “the daughter of the red dragon clan. your family.. your family practically runs this town!”

“not so loud!” (y/n) shushed the taller boy, eyes darting to the other students passing by. she looked back at the gangsters and snapped her fingers, the men scattered and disappeared. (y/n) huffed and turned her attention back on asahi.

“i didn’t want you to find out,” (y/n) stated.

“i would have found out eventually,” asahi commented, “everything comes to light in a small town like tachinan.”

“you’re right about that..” (y/n) grumbled. 

asahi offered a smile, “thanks for saving my butt.”

“just returning the favor,” (y/n) hummed.

asahi paused, “hey (y/n)?” he asked. (y/n) looked up at asahi and tilted her head to the side in bewilderment, “yes, asahi?”

“do you wanna go out into town with me?” 

“like as in a date?”

asahi blushed with realization, “wh- i mean! well, uh.. sorta?”

(y/n) giggled, “i’m just teasing you. i’d love to go out into town with you.”

“well uh!” asahi cleared his throat, “let’s go?”

asahi and (y/n) ventured into the town of tachinan, walking down the main road. a blend of modern and traditional architecture greeted them when they made it to tachinan, food vendors lined up on the streets and people mulling about and minding their own business. 

“takoyaki?” asahi suggested to (y/n). (y/n) beamed at the mention of food, “yes please! but only if you’re treating me.”

“it would be rude of me not to,” asahi chuckled before facing the takoyaki vendor. he purchased two plates of takoyaki from the vendor and handed one plate to (y/n), “here you go.”

“thanks!” (y/n) dug into her plate of takoyaki eagerly. how adorable, asahi thought to himself while enjoying his own plate of takoyaki. some of the takoyaki’s sauce dripped down on (y/n)‘s salior fuku, causing her to curse. asahi gave her a napkin to clean up the mess. 

“so your family is yakuza..” asahi brought up the topic to (y/n), “what’s that like? being the daughter of a yakuza clan?”

“terrifying,” (y/n) answered, “so many people wanna kill me just for being the heiress to the clan.”

“don’t you have people protecting you, though?” asked asahi.

(y/n) nodded and gestured around the main street, “my bodyguard is hiding among the crowd so i’m never truly alone,” (y/n) fell silent and a sigh escaped her pretty lips, “my family has done terrible things and i don’t want to be apart of it but i have no choice.”

“i’m sorry,” asahi didn’t know what to say. a cold autumn breeze ruffled his gakuran. asahi finished his takoyaki and looked back at his newfound friend, “look, (y/n), i–”

“get down!” (y/n) screamed before tackling asahi. he collided with the ground and let out a soft ‘ompf’, just as a bullet soared through the air. a bombardment of bullets flew about the main street, bystanders running away and yelling for help. asahi stared up at (y/n), who pinned him down to the ground. 

“they found me,” (y/n) cursed. she grabbed asahi’s hand and pulled him up from the ground, “run on the count of three, okay?”

“wait–”

“one–”

“(y/n)–”

“two–”

“wait, gimme a–”

“three!”

asahi and (y/n) ran, dodging a barrage of bullets. a bullet struck a nearby bystander, much to asahi’s horror. what horrified him more was the fact he recognized the person who got shot. 

it was sugawara.

“sugawara!” asahi let go out of (y/n)‘s hand and sprinted to sugawara. he grabbed his unconscious friend and dragged him to the hiding spot, leaving a trail of blood in his wake.

“god, you’re an idiot,” (y/n) commented to asahi, as he attempted to find the source of the bleeding. asahi couldn’t lose another friend,”oh zip it, i wasn’t gonna let my friend die!”

“right, right. sorry,” (y/n) apologized, as she rummaged through her backpack. (y/n) pulled out a gun from her backpack and loaded her weapon with a cartridge of bullets, “my house is only two blocks from tachinan’s main street. i’ll cover you, get your friend to safety.”

“why do you have a gun!?” asahi nearly screamed at the sight.

“for protection, duh. now, run!” (y/n) popped out of the hiding spot and fired a shot, striking one of the attackers. asahi hoisted sugawara onto his back and ran as fast towards the street (y/n) lived on. he ran and ran until he could feel his legs wanting to give out. 

“keep running!” (y/n) yelled, still shooting her gun at the invisible enemies. finally, the two of them made it into (y/n)‘s home and slammed the door behind them, panting and breathless from the fight.

“father! we got a wounded!” (y/n) shouted. footsteps echoed through the house, as a bulky man approached the foyer. he resembled (y/n) with the same (h/c) hair and (e/c) eyes, “christ, (y/n)! what did you get yourself into?”

“ambush,” she responded, pocketing her gun. (y/n) winced a bit and checked her shoulder, blood soaking her uniform. asahi gawked, “(y/n)! you’re hurt!”

“flesh wound,” she grunted, “need to take care of your friend first,” (y/n) looked back at her father, “dad.. help him, please.”

“okay,” (y/n)’s father carried sugawara off into the house and called for assistance. a plump woman appeared out of nowhere with a medical kit and the two got to work with sugawara.

“here,” asahi ripped off a piece of his uniform and tied up (y/n)’s wounded shoulder, “hopefully that stops the bleeding..”

“thanks,” (y/n) forced a smile, “i’m sorry about this, asahi.”

“why are you sorry?” asahi questioned.

“we got ambushed because of me. i told you that people want me dead and now..” tears swelled up in (y/n)’s eyes, “now your friend got hurt because of me.. i’m so sorry.”

“hey, hey..” asahi held (y/n) close and wiped away her tears, “it’s not your fault, okay? so don’t blame yourself. you can’t control the fact people wanna hurt you. all you can do is fight against it.”

“you’re right,” (y/n) sniffled.

“(y/n), your friend is stable!” (y/n)’s father yelled from the kitchen. both asahi and (y/n) got up from the ground and entered the kitchen where the head of the red dragon clan and the woman from earlier waited.

“he got lucky,” (y/n)’s father stated, “the bullet didn’t hit any vital organs. he’s gonna be unconscious for awhile but he’ll make a full recovery.”

“thank you, sir,” asahi dipped his head low out of respect.

“and you must be the infamous asahi azumane!” the clan leader chuckled, “i can’t thank you enough for saving my little girl from those gangsters.”

“of course, sir! i would have done the same for any other girl or boy!” asahi exclaimed.

“drop the ‘sir’, okay? call me taro,” the clan leader- taro- replied. (y/n) let out a huff and turned to the woman, “hey reiko, can you patch me up?”

“of course, miss. (y/n),” answered the woman before guiding (y/n) off to the side for treatment. asahi looked back at taro and his expression softened, “i don’t know how to repay you for saving my friend, taro.”

“in the yakuza world, we’re even. you saved my daughter, i saved your friend,” explained taro.

“i couldn’t bare to lose another friend,” asahi muttered, staring at sugawara sadly. taro quirked an eyebrow in confusion, “did you lose a friend recently, asahi?”

“my friend daichi.. he disappeared one day and no one has heard from him ever since,” answered asahi.

“daichi.. sawamura daichi?”

asahi’s heart stopped.

“yes! that’s him!”

“yeah, i know him,” taro pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, “a good kid. last i heard of him..” taro placed a cigarette between his lips, “he got wrapped up in some bad shit with the spider monkeys,” he lit the cigarette.

“the- the spider monkeys?” asahi never heard of them before.

“a rival clan,” taro blew smoke out of his lips, “they reside on the other side of tachinan. bad folks, worse than my clan when it comes to illegal activities and what not. you do not want to get involved with them.”

“but they could have the answers to daichi’s disappearance!” asahi protested.

“they could but if you enter their terf?” taro extinguished his cigarette, “you’re a dead man, asahi azumane.”

asahi hung his head low in shame. he needed to know what happened to his friend, asahi had to know.

“a.. asahi?” sugawara’s voice caught asahi’s attention.

“sugawara!” asahi rushed to his friend’s side, grinning from ear to ear with joy. sugawara let out a weak laugh and the two friends embraced, “asahi.. god, it’s so good to see you. where.. where are we?”

“somewhere safe,” asahi told a white lie. 

“who’s he?” sugawara nodded at taro.

“that’s taro. he saved your life,” asahi explained. sugawara smiled at taro, “thanks, taro. i don’t know what my parents would have done if i died out there.”

“probably revive you and kill you again,” taro chuckled.

“yeah.. probably..” sugawara coughed a bit. asahi rubbed sugawara’s back affectionately, “take it easy. you took a bullet to the gut, suga.”

“i’ll give the two of you some alone time,” taro left the kitchen. asahi looked back at sugawara and whispered, “i found where daichi is, suga.”

“you what?!” he shouted. asahi covered sugawara’s mouth and shushed him before releasing his hand from his mouth. the bun wearing boy then told his friend, “daichi was last seen with the spider monkeys.”

“oh my god.. daichi’s dead then!” sugawara went pale in the face.

“we don’t know that!” asahi countered.

“if he’s with the spider monkeys, then he’s probably dead..” grumbled sugawara with sorrow.

“what are you two talking about?” (y/n) popped into the conversation.

“who are you?” sugawara asked.

“i’m the girl who saved your ass,” (y/n) answered. she grabbed a chair and sat down in front of the boys, “so what’s the plan?”

“we’re gonna infiltrate the spider monkeys’ terf.”

“you’re an idiot,” (y/n) smirked, “but i’m in.”

“well, i’m not!” sugawara interjected, “i almost died today.. i’m not gonna risk that again.”

“then me and (y/n) will save daichi,” asahi stated.

“well, good luck with that..” mumbled sugawara.

“we’ll go tomorrow,” asahi told (y/n). she nodded, “sounds like a plan.”

“you’re an idiot,” sugawara spat.

“i may be an idiot but at least i still have faith in my friends!” asahi fired back.

“boys, boys!” (y/n) cut between the bickering friends, “enough, okay?”

sugawara and asahi fell silent.

“i’ll get you tomorrow, asahi. we’ll save daichi,” (y/n) held her fist to asahi.

asahi fist-bumped (y/n), “thanks, (y/n).”

operation: save daichi was a go.

─────────────────

under the cover of darkness, asahi and (y/n) made their way to the headquarters of the spider monkeys. armed with a revolver and some training from (y/n), asahi felt confident in the rescue mission.

“you guys are idiots,” a familiar voice greeted (y/n) and asahi from their hiding spot. sugawara stood behind them, annoyance written over his friend. asahi broke out into a grin at the sight of his friend, “suga! you came!”

“of course i did,” he huffed, “i wasn’t gonna let my friend rush into yakuza territory alone,” sugawara eyed (y/n), “well.. i wasn’t gonna let my friend rush into yakuza territory without my help.”

“here you go,” (y/n) handed sugawara a gun, “take the safety off, cock it, aim, and fire. simple, ain’t it?”

“yeah.. simple..” he scoffed.

“on my lead,” (y/n) nodded to the boys. she counted down from five and on one, the trio rushed into the spider monkeys headquarters. a yakuza member noticed them but before he could fire his gun, (y/n) fired and shot him square in the head. 

“shit..” asahi nearly puked at the sight of the dead body.

“keep moving!” (y/n) yelled at asahi. the trio spilt up and ventured through the house on the search for daichi. asahi took the first floor and listened for any clues, keeping his gun close. 

“you’re a dead man, sawamura.”

asahi’s ears perked up at the sound of daichi’s name. it came from the room on the left, its door slightly ajar. asahi hid behind the door and peeked inside, horrified at what he saw.

his friend daichi, bloody and beaten. he looked malnourished, his muscles losing definition and his cheeks hollow. a yakuza member was in the midst of interrogating him, slapping daichi around whenever daichi gave an answer he didn’t like.

i’m gonna have to kill him.

asahi realized that thought and cocked his gun.

aim.

asahi aimed at the yakuza member’s head.

fire.

asahi fired his gun.

bang!

the bullet flew through the air and through the head of the yakuza member, who dropped dead to the ground.

i just killed a man.

asahi pushed his thoughts aside, as he ran to his friend and dragged him out of the room. tears of joy flowed out of asahi’s eyes, as he got his friend out of the yakuza headquarters.

“i knew you were alive, daichi!” asahi cried out.

“you saved me,” daichi managed a weak smile.

“you can thank we when we–”

asahi paused.

daichi looked confused, “asahi?”

asahi dropped to his knees, blood spilling from his abdomen. 

“asahi!” daichi screamed.

sugawara and (y/n) ran out of the house at the sound of daichi’s screaming. (y/n) gasped at the state asahi was in and with sugawara’s help, the two managed to drag daichi and asahi to safety.

“asahi got shot!” sugawara sobbed. 

“i gotta stop the bleeding!” (y/n) applied pressure to the wound but it was too much, asahi was losing blood too fast. asahi held a hand up and rested it on her cheek, “it’s okay. you can stop now.”

tears fell from her cheeks and onto asahi’s face, “you’re gonna die, asahi..”

“it’s okay,” he forced a smile, “it’s okay, (y/n). get sugawara and daichi to safety, okay? for me, do it for me.”

“i’m not leaving you,” (y/n) hoisted asahi up and threw his arm around her shoulders, “sugawara, help daichi. we’re getting out of here.”

sugawara and (y/n) dragged their friends out of the war zone, bullets flying by from angry yakuza members. the two of them carried asahi and daichi to safety in the form of a nearby clinic.

“we’re gonna get you treatment,” (y/n) reassured asahi. 

asahi laughed softly, “(y/n).. it’s okay, really. i’m ready.”

“you’re not dying on me, idiot!” (y/n)’s body shook with sobs. asahi sat up and kissed (y/n) on the lips, silencing her worries. they kissed and kissed until asahi couldn’t anymore.

“i love you,” he whispered.

“i love you too.. idiot,” (y/n) wiped away her tears with a grin.

“thanks for the memories, daichi and sugawara,” asahi told his friends.

“we love you, asahi,” daichi and sugawara held their friend. (y/n) kissed asahi on the forehead, “you can go to sleep now, asahi.”

“i love you guys.”

asahi closed his eyes and exhaled his last breath.

“we love you, asahi azumane.”

─────────────────

november 1987

daichi, sugawara, and (y/n) stood silently before the casket of asahi azumane. mourners expressed their apologies to the family of the deceased, asahi’s mother sobbing in the arms of asahi’s father.

“he saved my life,” daichi muttered, hand resting on the closed casket.

“mine as well,” sugawara added, placing his hand over daichi’s.

“he’s a hero,” (y/n) stared at the casket.

“i think i decided what i’m gonna do after high school,” daichi spoke up. sugawara and (y/n) looked at daichi in befuddlement, “what are you gonna do?” sugawara asked.

“i’m gonna become a police officer,” daichi bore his eyes into (y/n), “i’m gonna put the spider monkeys in jail for what they did to asahi.”

“i wish you luck with that,” (y/n) responded.

“i think i’m gonna be a teacher,” sugawara announced, “to teach people and be a positive role model so they don’t turn down the path of the spider monkeys.”

“i’m gonna turn my clan into an organization that helps people,” (y/n) looked back at the casket, “for asahi’s sake.”

“for asahi’s sake,” daichi nodded.

“for asahi’s sake,” sugawara smiled.

in a distance, the ghostly figure of asahi azumane watched his friends and first love make those promises to one another. a smile bloomed on his face as a result.

“for my sake,” he replied, “for your sakes, as well.”

#🏝 — bee scribbles #hqfitpcollab #hqcorenet #haikyuu!! #hq!! #haikyuu!! x reader #hq!! x reader #asahi #asahi azumane #asahi x reader #asahi azumane x reader #tw violence #tw graphic imagery #tw blood #tw guns #tw murder #tw death #original work

[lov3nerdstuff]

Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 6.4}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 4.7k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

______________________________

The moment they were back in Snape's office, Robin got started on making them coffee. It was early afternoon by now, and she was well aware that there still was plenty of work to be done before they could move on over to the lab. Once again she offered her help with his work, but his (admittedly very much justified) objection remained that he couldn't let her grade other students' essays, and Robin had to accept that. Thus she merely sat down at the smaller table with her own coffee after handing him his, and henceforth listened to him complaining about the many stupid mistakes the second years had made in their essays. Eventually it became a real game between them, to keep a list of the most ridiculous things people had written in their essays, and to rank them by their level of idiocy. Robin, void of anything else to do for once, actually wrote it all down on a piece of parchment, both the most ridiculous statements and the ranking points they had given them.

In the end, they successfully managed to miss dinner entirely, as their game was more entertaining than either of them had anticipated. But the work was done, and Robin was proud to say that she had made it less dreadful for him after all. Even if not entirely on purpose, but still very much willingly.

"You know, you could probably fill an entire lesson just with reading out the dumbest quotes on this list and have the students figure out why it's so wrong." Robin sighed with a smirk as she stretched in her chair. The piece of parchment in front of her looked almost like a piece of art at this point, littered not only with the most desperately wrong quotes from the essays, but also Robin's corrections of them, as well as some extended elaborations on the matter and little drawings of ingredients. Yes, she had been that bored between judging ridiculous quotes.

"I could. Should I, however?" He raised an eyebrow at Robin with a not-smirk while he got up from behind his desk at last, only to sit down again across from her at the small table. Without taking his eyes off hers, he snatched the piece of parchment out from under her fingertips and only then lowered his gaze to inspect it. A few seconds passed before he frowned, and Robin smiled.

"I think you should." She remarked innocently, replying to his earlier question while leaning back in her chair. "Have them correct the mistakes, that is, not mock the person who made them."

"I am surprised that you bothered to correct them."

"Didn't have much else to do between judging students' idiocracy. Besides, at this point I really should know the second year topics, shouldn't I? Did them twice, after all."

"Twice because…?"

"Once in my own second year and then again last year when tutoring Jorien and Cas. So technically I only did them once, and then tried to teach them a second time."

"You still tutor your roommates regularly?"

"Yeah." Robin shrugged with a smile. "Not just them though, and by far not only in potions. Just this morning I actually had sixteen students, can you imagine?! Sixteen thirteen-year-olds! And they actually listened to what I said!!!"

Now Snape's eyebrows rose in surprise, but the not-smirk turned into a real one; small, but definitely visible. "I had no idea that was even a possibility."

"Me neither!" Robin laughed, then kept on grinning. "So, just in case you get a suspicious amount of high quality essays from your third years next week, you know who to blame. Or who to thank."

"We will see about that." He replied with the same smirk, but then continued on a more serious note as he took another look at the parchment in his hands. "May I keep this?"

"Sure." Robin shrugged easily, and for whatever reason her heart skipped a beat. "I hope you can decipher all of it… I didn't specifically try for readability."

"I have been reading your handwriting for years, Robin. Not only in tests or essays written specifically to be handed in, but in scribbles and working notes as well. I would even say I know it quite as well as my own."

"Good." Robin couldn't help grinning at him with enough excitement to make him frown a little in suspicion. Before he could ask however, she had already summoned her handbook out of her backpack and dropped it on the table in front of him with a dull thud. "Because there's something else I have been dying to show you."

_______________

A quiet rustling of sheets, soft breathing, hushed whispers. "Robin…" The mattress dipped gently at her side. She smiled, curling a little closer around the new source of warmth. "ROBIN!!!"

She jumped at the loud voice, sitting up with a start, and her head bumped against something hard in an instant.

"Ow…" She grumbled with a deep frown, rubbing her now aching forehead in an instant, while her eyes finally went into focus enough to see Cas sitting in front of her on her bed, rubbing her forehead just the same. Jorien sat on the other side, laughing at both their misery without a hint of guilt or pity.

"Very funny, you guys…" Robin groaned tiredly as she crossed her legs underneath her to make room for the two girls. "The last time you woke me up like this was-..."

"Happy birthday, Robin!" Both girls cheered before she could finish her sentence, and Robin had to smile despite the small mishap.

"Thank you! Is it really the twentieth already? Again?" She sighed, but by now she knew that resistance to Cas was hard, and resistance to Jorien was entirely futile.

"Twentieth of October, six o'clock in the morning!" Cas grinned, and crossed her legs as well while Jorien followed suit a few seconds later.

"Six?! Good gods…" Robin groaned exaggeratedly and frowned at them with a desperate smile. "Why on earth would you wake me up this early?"

"Because it's Thursday and our present for you requires some time before breakfast." Jorien replied factually, and Cas nodded in her usual giddy eagerness.

"Do I need to be scared?" Robin inquired with a raised eyebrow and an amused smile. She knew that look on their faces, and she knew that they were up to something. A second later, a small box very much like the one she had received last year was placed in her lap and Robin opened it with a curious smile. When her eyes fell onto the contents however, her brows furrowed, and she looked up at Cas and Jorien with a big question mark on her face.

"We're not doing anything you don't want to, of course… But you liked those onyx earrings so much when we went to Hogsmeade, so we decided to get them for you." Cas shrugged with an excited smile, and Jorien merely nodded in no less amusement.

"That is very sweet of you, but you realize that I don't actually have any holes in my ears but the ones nature demands, yes?"

"Yet. That is part of the present." Cas replied mischievously, and both girls smiled at Robin in a way that made her realize that they were absolutely serious in what they were planning to do. It humored her more than it probably should have.

"Alright." Robin said with an easy smile. "Thank you for the lovely present. If you take joy in stabbing holes into my skin, feel free to. I don't mind."

"Wait… really?!" Cas frowned incredulously. "I thought you were going to protest! I prepared an entire speech to convince you that it was for the best!"

"I told you she would be all for it." Jorien shrugged at her friend, with a humored smile similar to the one Robin wore herself. "And you didn't write a speech, you practiced saying 'please' in as many ways as possible."

"Don't tell her that!" Cas protested with a roll of her eyes, and Robin merely had to chuckle at the two of them. They were like an old married couple sometimes, and it was hilarious and adorable at once to observe. Cas turned to Robin once again. "Anyway, we asked McGonagall for a spell to pierce your ears that wouldn't blow your head off along the way, so you don't have to worry about a thing. It's all approved and safe for use."

"I'm not worried." Robin replied easily, and really she thought the idea was rather sweet. It was such a typical teenager thing to do… something of the kind she had never spent a second thinking about before now. But to Cas and Jorien it actually seemed to be of immense importance to do this themselves, and Robin felt touched that they included her in their spark of youthful rebellion. And she wouldn't mind getting her ears pierced after all. "So… You actually asked McGonagall for a spell?"

"Who did you expect us to ask?! What Professor Snape is for you, McGonagall is for Jorien. I'm just swimming on her wave." Cas explained, then motioned for Jorien to go ahead and do the actual work. A typical Cas move, giving the speech and leaving the work for someone else. "This is probably going to hurt, so you might want to grab something."

"Don't worry, it takes a lot to hurt me these days." Robin sighed and for once, she would just have to trust them; there wasn't much that could go wrong anyway. "But try to keep my head intact, alright?"

Ten minutes later, and luckily without any accidents, Robin had two neat holes in her ears and could at last make use of the gift she'd received. Two studs of black onyx, small but just as gorgeous as she remembered them to be from the two times they had looked at them through the shopwindow in Hogsmeade. She smiled when she looked at herself in the mirror, admiring the subtle new detail about her appearance. The deep black really was a sharp contrast to her ashen skin, but so was her dark hair anyway. The new piece of jewelry probably wouldn't be all too noticeable in comparison to that.

"You look absolutely gorgeous, birthday girl…" Cas declared dramatically, still lounging on Robin's bed even while Robin herself had gotten up. "Now we just need to get a little colour onto your face and you're ready to seize this day!"

Robin spun around to face them in an instant, glaring at the two girls in both horror and defense. There was a lot she would let them do to her, but that most definitely did not include turning her into a canary! "Cas no! Absolutely not!"

"Cas yes!"

"Jorien?" Robin pleaded with both her tone and her eyes while moving back over to her bed and to the girls. "I already let you make holes into my ears!"

"Sorry, but it's all part of our present." Jorien shrugged with a sympathetic half smile before she moved off the bed to get ready. "Just let it happen."

"What is your present if it includes piercing my ears and painting my face?!"

"We're making you pretty, dumbass! Like they do in the movies!" Cas groaned loudly and rolled off the bed as well to pad back towards her own. "You're bloody 17 now! And you still don't have any dates! We're trying to get you one."

"Not that again…" Robin sighed in return, hiding her head in her hands for a moment to regain some composure before she started getting dressed for the day of classes. "Don't you guys have anything better to do than meddling in my affairs?"

"No." Both Jorien and Cas replied at the same time, then giggled at their synchrony, and Robin finally had to realize that resistance was futile indeed. Sometimes living with thirteen-year-olds demanded a sacrifice; sometimes Robin just had to make concessions to their youth. And honestly, she couldn't deny them a thing, being as excited as they were about this now.

"Fine…" She sighed at last, mindlessly buttoning up her blouse with long practiced moments, then tugged it into her trousers. "You may paint my face if it means so much to you. But I'll get the bathroom first, now and all to myself. And I forbid you to use anything actually colourful."

"But colour is the best part! It's ALL colour!!!" Cas cried as she struggled into her tights. "Some charcoal would do wonders on your eyes!"

"Black isn't actually a colour but a value." Jorien corrected with a roll of her eyes. "So technically you can use all the black, white and grey you want."

"Precisely! Thank you, Jorien, your thought-out input is always very much appreciated." Robin smiled proudly at the girl, who in return grinned to herself upon the praise. "Now, do we have an agreement? I get the bathroom first and you will use no colours, but you may otherwise do with my hair and face as you please. Deal?"

"Deal!"

… … …

In the end, Robin had to make another compromise: in exchange for not getting any brown paste and powder onto her face, which Cas seemed to be very fond of unfortunately, she had to agree to let them use colours, dark colours, on her eyes. Thus Robin ended up sitting on her bed, sighing repeatedly, while Cas painted her face and Jorien braided her hair. Honestly, she still didn't know how or why exactly she (the older one!) had become their dress up doll, but under the pretext of 'making her look pretty for her birthday', Robin still found herself unable to deny them. Even if, on the inside, she very much felt like running.

When all three of them made their way towards the great hall for breakfast at last, Robin still felt mildly uncomfortable. The braid Jorien had forced her hair into was rather charming actually, and also very much useful to keep the wavy, bushy mess out of her face, but she wasn't so sure about the 'smokey' black, brown and green Cas had layered around her eyes. Robin felt more like a raccoon than herself… but in comparison to what some (few) of her classmates wore on a daily basis, or those women in the magazines Cas read instead of books, it still was subtle enough to tolerate for a day. Makeup may be fun for some other people, which was fine, but it most definitely wasn't for Robin and she had a rather strong interest in not repeating this masquerade. Oh well… she still would be racoon-Robin for a day now. Besides, it would break the girls' hearts if she didn't suffer through it with a smile on her face, so that's what she did as they hurried to breakfast.

"And where would we be coming from?" A taunting voice stopped all three of them just outside the great hall, and Robin had to smile while the other two looked rather panicked upon the unexpected appearance of their potions teacher. "Miss Miller, Miss Blakeley… Punctuality is a virtue, not an option. Breakfast started fifteen minutes ago. You are late."

"So are you, professor..." Robin replied with an innocent smile, which however turned into more of a smirk as soon as her eyes met his. "Isn't that a funny coincidence?"

Snape approached them with long strides and his usual public facade, and the closer he came, the more Cas and Jorien hid behind Robin. She still didn't understand how they could miss the humor in his face that even now was obvious as day! All they saw was the menacing scowl he wanted them to see. That they probably wanted to see as well; expectation and prejudice were the masters of deceit in one's own mind.

"Funny." He said to Robin in a particularly flat tone that made her bite her lip to keep from laughing, then he turned to look at Jorien and Cas instead. "You two would do well to be on time from now on, even if for a mere meal. I tolerate no slacking. Now find your seats before your classmates leave nothing but their empty plates for you." With that, he motioned for them to get going, clasping his hands behind his back with that indifferent look that made Robin smile even more.

"Robin…? Are you coming?" Jorien asked carefully while Cas straight out started walking off already, gaining as much distance to Snape as possible until she disappeared out of sight. Jorien still stood between Robin and the doors, looking at her insecurely.

"You should be fine without your precious Robin for five minutes, or is that too much to ask?" Snape drawled in feigned annoyance, and Robin gave him a look before turning to Jorien.

"I'll be there in five minutes, just save me a seat and some toast, will you?" She smiled at the girl as positively as possible, who only nodded with a weak smile in return before quickly following behind Cas, out of sight.

"Did you have to scold them for something so minor?" Robin finally asked as she turned back to Snape with a small frown. "They were only late because of me, or rather because of what they did for me. Today, at least…" Really, they were usually late for all meals. No matter what day it was, and no matter if they were with Robin or without her.

"Had they been any later, all they would have found left is scrapings. It might have slipped your notice, but their classmates are more animals than civilised beings when it comes to meals." He pointed out calmly, and Robin had to sigh. He was right. "Unless you wish to show them how to use the kitchens or leave them to fend for themselves in the future, I would prefer to teach them punctuality."

"Yeah, alright, I see your point." She said with another sigh. "Nevermind. I usually prefer being early anyway."

"I am aware." He replied with a not-smirk, upon which Robin had to smile again as well. "Is that colour in your face the reason for your mutual lateness?"

"Ah, well, yes." Robin chuckled awkwardly, and before she knew her fingers nervously brushed over the rough spot of skin on her neck again. "It is, uh… it's part of their birthday present to me, I guess. They insisted on it."

For a moment Snape observed her closely, with a curious frown that made Robin feel both nervous and tingly. He leaned a little closer for a second, then back again. "Something else about you is different than it was yesterday evening, but I cannot tell what it is."

"Well, uh, I also let them pierce my ears, because they really wanted to, so it's probably that." Robin shrugged with an almost apologetic frown. Did he observe everyone that closely? Probably.

His eyebrows rose in surprise, torn between incredulity, humor and irritation. "Why would you let them do all that to you? I was under the impression that people did nice things for others on their birthdays…"

"They gave me earrings, so they also had to make sure I could wear them. And as for the colour on my face… you better don't ask what made them do that to me." She shrugged again, deeming the way he said 'nice' highly amusing. "I let them do it because it quite obviously made them happy."

"It is your birthday. People are supposed to ensure you are happy."

"Oh, I'm quite happy as it is." Robin replied with a small smirk, and a soaring heart once more. "I can manage looking like a raccoon for the day. Perhaps it'll scare Morgan off at least."

A quiet snort escaped him before he could make an effort to remain stoic, and even then he seemed to struggle not to smirk. "Raccoon certainly is not what I think of when I look at you, Robin. But you make me curious about their reason to obviously try for exactly that visual."

Now Robin had to snort as well, shaking her head to herself. Damn, she didn't want to tell him… but she also knew that she could deny him even less than the two girls. What was it about the people she cared about?! The only weak spot she knew of, and they all were entirely oblivious to it.

"If you have to know, they wanted to make me look pretty for the day." She sighed, but as soon as he even made an attempt to reply, she added, "Don't. Please. No scorn or mocking on my birthday. I know I look stupid, but I have to make concessions if I want to keep my sanity when living with them, and this was such an instance. I could have looked far worse."

"I was merely going to say that they obviously have a strange concept of beauty if they are blind enough to try to cover it up with paint." He said as if it wasn't enough to make Robin's entire body feel too hot all of a sudden. Actually, he didn't even seem to realize what exactly he had just said in the first place as he went on. "I do very well understand your need to make concessions, and your diplomacy is certainly appropriate. However you don't have to tolerate everything they do to you merely because I told you to watch over them."

"I know. That's not why I do it, not at all." She sighed, regaining control over her heartbeat by simply ignoring what he hadn't even said on purpose. "They care about me, they really do, and they only want the best for me in their own kind of way. A thirteen-year-old way, which unfortunately entails trying to draw more positive attention to me."

He frowned at that, with a lingering hint of amusement. "They paint your eyes black to draw positive attention to you? How… curious."

"I know, right?" She huffed in both humor and dread. "I for my part like black better than anything else they could've put on my fave, but it's probably the wrong colour to make other people think 'pretty' and not 'scary'. I forbid them to use bright colours though, so perhaps it is my fault that I'll scare people off all day, which I do almost every day anyway, so-..."

"Robin." He quirked an eyebrow at her, and Robin took a deep breath to untangle the mess in her head that caused her to ramble.

"Yes. Sorry. Nevermind, just forget about it."

"Give me your hand." He ordered calmly an instant later, holding his own out to her with his palm facing up. Robin's heart skipped a beat, but she did as he said without question, placing her hand in his only to feel the familiar surge of electricity running up her arm and through her body.

To her surprise, he turned her hand around to rest in his with the inside facing up as well. Then, without a word, a small spark of light flickered to life inside her palm. It glowed softly in different colours that came and went so quickly it left the light white, an addition of all colours, and yet black at once in its subtraction. Robin couldn't have described it even if she'd wanted to, for her eyes and mind were too drawn to their hands to even try such a thing. The spark grew, not into a bigger light, but into a shape, a web of atoms that made up matter one by one. It grew, blossomed and rooted until at last it took on the unmistakable shape of a flower. A flower Robin had never seen before, one that was entirely black in its impossible existence, but yet consisted of all the colours in existence indeed. She couldn't take her eyes of it as it rested in her palm, all light gone but the impossible colours remained. His hand was still curled around hers, long fingers brushing against the delicate skin of her wrist beneath the cuff of her blouse… Robin didn't know which of the two fascinated, enchanted her more. Perhaps both did, in a different way.

"Now, would you expect someone to deem this flower scary?" He asked after a few seconds, dropping his hand from hers at last.

"No…" Robin replied quietly, holding the blossom in her palm like the greatest treasure. "It's beautiful, breathtaking even. I've never seen anything like it."

"Because it stems from your mind alone, which makes it entirely unique in its existence."

"But, how… I mean…" She didn't even know what to say, leave alone what to think, neither in a positive nor in a negative way. Why had he shown this beautiful piece of magic to her? Why hadn't she known that he could do something like this in the first place?! The overwhelming urge to be closer to him overcame her when she looked up at him, and it couldn't even be lessened by his perfect neutral facade. Gods, why did he always hide when she wanted to see him the most?! "Why?"

"It is nothing but a reminder that darkness does not scare everyone." He replied neutrally, neither bothering to feign indifference nor to let his honest expression shine through. A few seconds passed in silence, and they merely looked at each other as they did so often.

"Thank you." Robin finally said, giving him the most sincere smile that had graced her lips all day. "It's a lovely gift."

"It isn't a gift." He was quick to respond though, frowning first, then looking almost humored again. "But it might counteract the racoon visual nonetheless."

Robin chuckled, closing her eyes for a second to dwell in the happiness of the moment. The overwhelming bunch of emotions tied to the impossible flower in her hand. "Well, thank you either way. I appreciate your help with my facial issues."

Finally the not-smirk was back on his face, and if Robin wasn't mistaken, so was the humor in his eyes. "What kind of… person would I be if I didn't help you even with the most obscure problems?" Again he raised his eyebrows at her, and she smiled brightly enough to light up the entire hallway, until he spoke on. "That, among other things, is why I want you to be prepared at two o'clock this afternoon."

"Huh?" Robin's brows furrowed into a deep frown in an instant. "Prepared for what?"

"To play along." He smirked for real this time, quite obviously basking in her confusion. "You will see."

Then, without another word, Snape turned on his spot and disappeared down the hallway towards the dungeons before Robin could say another thing. Two seconds later, the doors to the great hall were opened by the first students already leaving breakfast, and they stormed the hallway with enough noise and chattering to break Robin free of her frozen state. Did Snape actually enjoy being that cryptic?! He probably did; insufferable idiot.

Robin sighed to herself, looking at the flower in her hand in careful consideration, then moved to tie it into her hair with a smile. Having this little piece of magic with her, his magic, would certainly make her day a lot better, even if it was prone to cause her constant tingles. Who cares… it was her birthday, she could allow herself to enjoy one single day of dwelling in her feelings. And besides, nobody had to know who had given her such an impossible flower; it wasn't a gift after all, just a point proven.

As Robin made her way into the great hall at last, hoping that at least some kind of food was left for her, she wondered what would be happening at two o'clock. She really couldn't wait to know. Then again, the anticipation and excitement of not knowing was also quite delightful. Two o'clock… that was a third into her defense against the dark arts class. And that meant whatever was going to happen, it could only be an improvement.

______________________________

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[wrctings]

Bill Guarnere x fem!reader | Happy Halloween

happy october 31st everyone! for this imagine, i’m mixing two of my favourite things, halloween and this angry (actually soft inside) italian <3 🎃 (this is based on the character portrayed by frank john hughes, all my respect goes to the real bill guarnere and his family, which i by no means mean to disrespect). I wrote this while listening to The Yodeling Ghost by Bring Crosby and The Andrews Sisters, so that could be a nice song to read this to ❣️

October 31st, 1945 

You stopped in the kitchen doorway to a sight that coated your heart with a warmth that even the thickest of blankets couldn’t have generated. You almost didn’t want to enter the room anymore, a smile instantly lightening your features as you allowed your gaze to longer linger on the scene you had just walked in on, coming to a halt as though unwilling to shatter the moment you had just caught.

“Daddy, when are we going to go?” A little girl, no older than ten, with bright eyes fixed upon her dad’s frame, was gently tugging at the man’s shirt. 

“Soon, Y/child’s/n, soon. I swear you’re even more impatient that I am, aren’t you?” Bill shook his head but a twinkle of fondness could also easily be discerned in the man’s gaze, which briefly landed upon his daughter’s face before his attention went back to the reason why the child’s patience was wearing out. Indeed, on the table before Bill sat an emptied pumpkin — its innards and light-coloured, almond-like seeds having been set aside in a nearby bowl —, and your husband was making an effort to craftily dig into it with a knife.

“Then we’ll go?” Y/child’s/n asked hopefully, hauling herself on tiptoe to better observe Bill’s endeavour. 

“Then we’ll go,” he promised, cutting through the hardened surface of the fruit with quite a bit of struggle to form of a serrated mouth. “I swear you’re even more impatient than me, aren’t you?” he gave her a quick smile as he continued his task. Once he was done with carving such an outline, he could then push the cut-out surface out of the way, leaving a whole in the shape of a grin. ‘There you go,” Bill put the knife down, rubbing his hands together as he took a final look at his creation, then seized the pumpkin and showed it to your daughter. “What do you think?” 

“It’s not a very scary pumpkin...,” the little girl commented with a chuckle, though her face showed a pleased expression.

“Not a very scary pumpkin? Let me tell you, I’d be really scared if I came across a pumpkin like that,” Bill retorted, giving the pumpkin a fake suspicious look that made your daughter laugh, and you couldn’t help but join in. This drew your husband’s attention, whom gave you a joyful glance as soon as he noticed your presence in the doorway. “See,” he continued, addressing the girl, “I wouldn’t trust it too much. But thanks to it, I have a feeling somebody’s gonna get some candy tonight.” 

“I have the same feeling,” you said fondly, stepping inside the room to join your daughter and husband. Bill got up, leaning on his prosthesis to regain his balance, and gave you an affectionate smile before he washed pumpkin flesh off his hands. 

“Mommy, are you going to go treat-or-treating with me and daddy?” Y/child’s/name wrapped her small hands around your leg as she shifted her head backwards to give you an inquisitive look. 

“Do you want me to?” you replied tenderly, hearing Bill’s footsteps come closer behind your back, meaning that it would soon be time to grant your daughter’s wish.

“Yes!” she answered cheerfully. “Please come with us!" 

“Then count me in,” you stroke your daughter’s back, nodding decidedly. “But before that, you need to put on your costume. Come on, I’ll help you out. I’m sure that daddy will manage not to get too scared of Mr Pumpkin even if we leave him alone with him for a bit,” you gave Bill a playful, loving smile. 

“I’ll be on the lookout for anything suspicious from Mr Pumpkin,” Bill answered gravely, and the two of you exchanged a knowing and affectionate glance as you were leaving the kitchen in your daughter’s wake. 

*

You were standing at the bottom of the staircase a quarter of an hour later, readjusting Y/child’s/n’s halloweeny cape as the little girl expectantly hopped up and down, struggling to remain immobile.

“Daddy! Look!” As soon as Bill appeared in the doorframe, she spun on her heels to face him, a proud beam shimmering upon her lips. “I’m a vampire!” 

“Wow,” holding the pumpkin he had carved earlier, your husband came closer to take a thorough look at the girl’s new disguise. “You’re a terrifying little vampire! Ain’t nobody stands a chance against you.”

“Now I can scare Mr Pumpkin if he tries to scare you,” Y/child’s/n announced confidently, eyeing the jack-o’-lantern as if she was giving it a warning. Such a bravely sweet statement made Bill’s and yours parent’s hearts melt and your husband picked her up, momentarily putting the pumpkin down so he could plant a gentle kiss on her cheek.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he told her with a smile not devoid of emotion as you rubbed his shoulder.

The three of you then put their shoes on, Bill once again getting hold of the jack-o’-lantern, and you took off for the Halloween-night trick-or-treating which your daughter had been awaiting so impatiently. The sun had already almost set, only remnants of fading warm light rippling upon the ginger and brown leaves that rustled on the trees all around, but most of the houses’ porches were alit with lanterns or lights, some of them even placed inside of carved pumpkins used as decorations. You were not the only ones to have gone out on that evening, meeting some your neighbours whom you greeted before your daughter energetically shot the decisive question: trick or treat? Even without approaching the houses, your pumpkin already filled with a few pieces of candy, which your daughter counted before urging you to go up to the first front door. Her father lifted her up so she could ring the doorbell by herself, and you waited for your neighbours to show up, Bill carrying your pumpkin-container while you were in charge of other sweets that you could give away for other trick-or-treaters. 

“Good evening,” you greeted the woman who opened the door, a sheepish smile slipping onto your lips as your daughter joyfully exclaimed: trick or treat, even forgetting to say hello first. 

“Well, look at you,” the woman laughed kindly, visibly finding the child’s enthusiasm endearing. “Good evening. I’ll see what I can do for you.” She reappeared a few moments later, carrying a piece of chocolate candy that she put into the pumpkin that Y/child’s/n insisted on taking from Bill. “There you go.” 

“Thank you very much, Ma’am,” your daughter replied, this time not giving politeness a miss, which got her another smile from the woman. 

“Thank you, we’re sorry for the trouble,” Bill apologised, though giving your daughter a fond glance as he did so.  

“It’s nothing, I’m glad I won’t be tricked by this very frightening vampire,” the woman shook her head breezily, but your daughter’s face shone with pride at the fact that your neighbour had got her costume right, and found her scary. 

After warmly wishing the woman a good evening, you set toward your next destination. To make your daughter content, you decided to try your luck at all the houses bordering your street, and thankfully got a positive response from every one of their inhabitants — to give away candy was one of Halloween night’s customs, so everybody played along in a joyous atmosphere, especially since your daughter managed to remain polite in spite of her being giddy with excitement. You and Bill couldn’t have been prouder, congratulating the girl on her behaviour and promising her that she would get to taste some of the candy you had collected when you would come home.

Your little expedition came to an end around an hour later, tiredness starting to weigh upon Y/child’s/n as you left the front yard of the last house you had visited. Her eyelids fluttering shut while you were heading back home, Bill ended up picking her up, handing you the jack-o’-lantern, and cradling her in his arms so she could rest peacefully. Although she awoke when your husband and you took her up the stairs leading to her room, then helping your daughter undress and get into bed, her misty state of mind made the drowsy little girl forget all about candy and she quickly cuddled up to her stuffed animal, letting you tuck her in and tenderly kiss her goodnight. You softly closed the door, your daughter already fast asleep, and found yourself alone with Bill.

The two of you quietly went back downstairs, careful not to make any loud noises lest you disturbed Y/child’s/n’s slumber, and in a few minutes you were inside the living room, the door shut behind you. Warmth was flooding the room, the fireplace still ablaze with remnants of fluttering flames and the wood inside crackling cosily, which made an appeased sigh part your lips. You were home.

“Y/child’s/nickname fell asleep quickly tonight,” Bill commented, taking your hand in his. “That was a really good Halloween celebration.” 

“But it’s not over yet,” you had had an idea, a smile now spreading upon your face as you let go of your husband’s hand. You came up to the radio stationed near the fireplace, turning it on, and after a few seconds of uncertain hissing and murmuring from the frequency modulation, music spilled from the machine, its jazzy notes instantly swirling in the air and engulfing you and Bill in their rhythm, smooth and ample like velvet to the ears. Matching the date, you realised that it was Halloween-themed after catching some of the lyrics.

“There,” you grinned, turning back around to meet Bill’s inquisitive gaze. Moving along to the song, you came back to him, putting your arms over the man’s shoulders. “Now, I’ve got you all for myself,” you murmured with longing playfulness, your mouth still curved. 

“I’m all yours, darling,” your husband’s dark eyes anchored in yours, he slid his arms around your back, his body drifting along the shifting of yours. He had never told you out loud, but dancing with you had always felt incredibly special to him; in spite of losing his leg, it made him feel whole, like he could do anything. Like he was still himself — and he was. He was incredibly strong, and you would forever be proud of him. 

As you danced, Bill kissed you slowly, savouring every contact that you shared, before pulling away, which allowed you to look into his face. Waltzing shadows from the fireplace were grazing his skin, skin which you had left so many breathless kisses on, and the amber of his iris appeared lighter in the dimly-lit living room, reflecting the glistening of embers in the fireplace. You had feared losing him so intensely, back when you went through the war together, and now he was standing there in front of you, so alive. And even though the memories of what happened after you had learnt about Bill’s injury still sometimes cut through you like a blade — sobbing uncontrollably in Cpt. Winters’s foxhole, Cpt. Nixon had even offered you his flask of alcohol as Richard had tried to console you best he could —, at least your pain had been alleviated by the certainty that he had made it. You had come home to him, and he had been there. 

But on that merry Halloween evening, nothing could have clouded the sheer and simple happiness of dancing with your husband to a spooky tune. You hands in his, you moved along to the music, your merry state of mind translating into the suavity with which your limbs moved in synch; Bill had even forgotten about his prosthetic, feeling like every move was effortless with you. Though being the night of horror, for the two of you that 31st of October was marked with blissfulness that would have made even the scariest of creatures meek. And perhaps, at that very moment, some ghost was watching you from the corner of the room, daydreaming about a long-lost love that it had suddenly set its mind to find again. 

#bill guarnere #bill guarnere x reader #bill guarnere imagine #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers #BoB #band of brothers imagines #band of brothers fanfiction #writing #my writing

[alitaimagines]

“I was in a Haikyuu mood last night so my dumbass wanted to watch the cringy English dub of it so I wrote this while watching it. please give me a break if you see any mistakes, it was hella late when I wrote it.” 

character: kyoutani kentarou 

fandom: haikyuu!! 

song recommendation: home by catie turner 

you walked inside the gym, not completely realizing that there was a sports practice going on. both you and your friend were setting out posters for a mock trial Aoba Johsai was holding. 

you were apart of the schools student government so part of it was going around and setting posters and flyers on boards to inform the school on the up coming trial. 

a boy ran up to you as their coach screamed to continue their practice. 

"what are you lovely ladies doing at our practice?" you raised an eyebrow. you knew who Oikawa was. the pretty boy of Aoba Johsai. he was the ground that many girls would kill to walk on but you weren't exactly keen on the 'popular' kids at Aoba Johsai. your friend on the other hand was ready to have a heart attack from the small comment. 

"we're setting posters out. the principal allowed us to put them wherever we liked," with that, you left your friend on her own as you went to the few bulletins that were inside the gym and put a few flyers on each of them.

just as you finished putting the last flyer on the bulletin, you felt a harsh wind pass by you. the ball smacked the wall, a few centimeters from your face. you let out a scream of bloody murder. 

"watch it!" You heard a player scream to another. you bent down and grabbed the stray papers that had fallen on the floor as one of the players grabbed the one who smacked the ball near you and shoved him to you. 

"apologize, Kyotani," the brown hair boy stated. you looked up to the one who you assumed was named Kyotani and gave him a small smile, "sorry." 

you waved him off, "you're fine. It didn't hit me so no harm no foul, right?" you mentioned as you got back to picking up the papers from the floor. he shrugged as he watched you for a bit longer than you expected. you gave him one more smile before turning around to head out the door. your friend, after finishing her conversation with Oikawa, walked back towards you. 

"I leave you for one second and you're already getting hit with volleyballs," she joked as the two of you walked out of the gym. "It's not like he tried to hit me intentionally. we just have a few more hallways and we can head out." 

she stopped you in the middle of the deserted hallway, "ah, ah, ah. don't think we didn't see the eye contact between the two of you. what happened?" 

"who? the boy with the black highlights?" "yes! Kyotani! I seen the way the two of you looked at each other. he goes by Mad-Dog by the school and his teammates." 

you rolled your eyes as the two of you walked out of the building. 

"nothing! everyone seen what happened! all he did was apologize? If anyone took it another way, that's their problem." you argued, clearly evident that you were done with the conversation. "tomorrow, lunch time!" she nodded as the two of you hopped into both of your cars.

//

the next morning came and you lazily got up. your mom was already out the door by the time you were finished getting ready.

Seijoh forced their student government members to wear completely different uniforms on days that called for it. It was an ugly blue blazer with the Seijoh school crest on the right. underneath it was a white button up with a matching blue tie. the boys were forced to wear their regular school pants while the girls were supposed to wear their regular uniformed skirts. 

"wow, you clean up nicely for the uniforms we're demanded to wear," Midori said as she handed you a coffee, "I know we were supposed to meet during lunch but the school is allowing us to prepare for the trial and exempted us from class." 

you gave a sigh of relief as the two of you walked into the huge student government conference room. the club was made up of eight members. Four girls and four boys. the mock trial was against Karasuno's student government. the topic was on sports and academic clubs and how they could interact to where they both could get the same amount of funding. 

"I know but listen, this trial is huge for us. Aoba Johsai hasn't had many successful trials before and Karasuno is known for their lengthy arguments and counter arguments," you stated to the seven members, "If the trial ends in our favor, this argument could possibly land in the hands of the actual school board." 

everyone crossed their fingers, hoping Seijoh could actually pull this off. your club had been working towards the trial for months now and being that you were club president, you put a lot of effort and long nights into the arguments. 

-

"listen," You stated to the crowd of faculty and students, "It is marginally known that sports clubs are widely favored compared to those in academic and scholarly clubs. look at the attendance for our volleyball team for example. the boys have a bigger attendance during practice games alone. It is in Karasuno's and Seijoh's best favor to start having both clubs start interacting with their respective sports division. In the case for both of our schools, the volleyball club are the biggest sports so any academic club should be going after the team. Seijoh's student government is already planning a partnership with the team and we should assume to see a drastic change in the attendance for any meetings that our student government should hold." 

the moderators nodded their heads as they looked to Karasuno for their final statement. you went back to your seat as Midori gave you a high five from underneath the table. after Karasuno's team finished their statement, they called a half hour recess. 

"jesus, that was the most terrifying five minutes of my life," you sighed in relief before taking a drink of water, "you did great! I had never seen you so determined in your life!" you heard someone say from behind you.

you smiled as you noticed familiar faces approaching you. It was at least half of the boys volleyball team. 

"nice argument out there!" Oikawa mentioned as Midori felt her heart immediately flutter, "are you guys serious about actually partnering up?" 

You nodded, "of course. your coach gave us a paper with your up coming games and we're planning on hosting your game against Date Tech," Oikawa looked surprised as he realized that the game your club was planning on hosting was coming up rather soon, "since I am the captain, we should make cool flyers and hang them around the school!" 

you couldn't help but laugh at the enthusiasm that Oikawa was showing. 

"we'll talk about that soon. for now, have your team start thinking of ideas," Oikawa nodded as he felt a little intimidated by your stern attitude, "we'll meet up tomorrow during lunch to start combining ideas." 

ss you went back inside of the auditorium, you went past Kyotani. you felt your face flush as your face became warm. Midori nudged your side as she whispered that Kyotani was looking at you once again. 

-

Aoba Johsai had won the mock trial and you were over the moon. everyone was handed a certificate of excellence as well as a trophy that would go next to the plethora of awards in the main entrance. your trophy was standing next to one of the many awards that the volleyball team had. 

you walked into the student government office and noticed Kyotani sitting on one of the couches. 

"Hey!" you said a little giddy for your own liking, "what has you on our neck of the woods?" 

"well isn't your club collaborating with our team?" he asked rather bluntly, "I'm here for the planning." you didn't expect the Mad-Dog of Seijoh to be apart of the planning committee. you ushered for him to follow you in the conference room as you started to set out your planner, a few notepads, and stickies on the table. 

"I never took you as the one to be apart of this kind of thing," You admitted before reaching into the small fridge the conference room had, "but nevertheless, we're excited to have you here! I know Oikawa and Iwaizumi offered to help." on command, he scoffed at Oikawa's name. "so, have you thought of anything?" 

Kyotani shook his head no. you remained silent as tried to think of a quick idea. 

"well, posters are a must. we can hang them around the school as well as the stores around here. secondly, we're planning on expediting an order of t-shirts. since the game lands this Friday, our graphic designer has already made a design for the shirts and they should be ready to hand out during the game." you explained. 

"If your graphic designer already made a design, why not put the design on the posters as well?" Kyotani mentioned. you nodded excitedly, "and we can have the video announcements club make a segment for us! I know it's going to be rushed but with the right amount of advertising, we can actually pull this off." 

before you could say anything else, Midori, Oikawa, Iwaizumi, and your vice president, Rendai, walked into the room. 

"did we interrupt anything?" Midori asked jokingly. you shook your head no, "no but we have a few ideas already! Kyotani had the idea of slapping the design of the shirts we're handing out on the posters as well. we could also have the video announcements club make a segment to promote the game!" 

they nodded as everyone remained in disbelief that Kyotani was even here nonetheless actually contributing to ideas. you were way too engrossed into the planning that you weren't catching the exchange of looks between your club and the volleyball team.

when the meeting ended, you had papers scattered everywhere as everyone already left home. Kyotani offered to help you clean up which was a sigh of relief. 

"hey, thanks for all the help today!" you said as the two of you walked out of the school. the breeze of the October air made you annoyed that you bother to bring a jacket in the morning. Kyotani noticed and put the iconic white and teal blue sweater over your shoulders. you felt your face getting instantly warm, "I know we don't have anything planned tomorrow but if you'd like, we can meet up before class to see if we came up with anything else." 

Kyotani nodded as he shoved his phone into your hands, "give me your number. It's easier to communicate," you blushed realizing that he actually wanted YOUR number. you put your number into his contacts and made sure your name stood out compared to the others. 

"text me. I'm usually available to message at any time." 

as you got into your car, you realized that you had kept Kyotani's jacket. without a second thought, you sort of snuggled into the warmth of the sweater. his sweater smelled that of a distinct woodsy or outdoors odor. It wasn't a gross smell, it was more of a woodsy smell. 

once you got home, you had set your phone down on the counter as you offered to help your mom with anything she needed. Kyotani messaged you as soon as he got home but because you were busy, you didn't realize that you got a text. he kept checking his phone but to his dismay, you weren't answering. 

as he felt that he blew any shot of even going on a date with you, his phone rang. 

"sorry I didn't text back! I was helping my mom with dinner and left my phone on the counter." 

Kyotani showed the slightest smile as he gave you back a simple reply. with that, the two of you were texting until Kyotani literally passed out asleep. you knew if you even mentioned that you had Kyotani's number, Midori was bound to have a fit. 

-

the morning came and you were off to school with excitement. the thought of meeting with Kyotani and you still sporting his sweater made you want to get to Seijoh a lot quicker than usual. 

you got off the car and seen Kyotani waiting for you at the gate. he was leaning against the gate as he didn't bother to check if his school blazer was getting dirty. you tightened the straps of your backpack out of nervousness as you approached him.

"hey Kyotani! How was your evening?" you asked as the two of you walked inside. 

he shrugged, "Kentarou. Call me Kentarou," you smiled at the fact that he was letting you call you by his first name so early on. 

many of the students were talking amongst themselves. the Mad-Dog of Seijoh and the student government president hanging out? you weren't necessarily popular but you had a great reputation and seeing you with someone like Kyotani made everyone confused. 

"hey!" you heard Midori say as she noticed Kyotani next to you, "Rendai is looking for you. He wanted to make sure that we're still on for putting the design on the posters but I'll tell him you're busy." 

you gave her a confused look before she scattered off, "don't you ever wonder why you're friends with the people that you are sometimes?" Kyotani laughed as the two of you wandered to the second year floor, "well, I'll see you later! I need to ask my teacher about one of my homework assignments." 

"see you at lunch," was all Kyotani said before he went to his respective homeroom. you nodded as you went to your seat. a few of those who sat next to you kept glancing at the fact that you were still wearing Kyotani's sweater. 

"so are you and Kyotani a thing?" your friend asked as she gestured to the sweater. you shook your head no, "I don't think so. we're just friends. we're just working on something to together! I don't understand why people think that we're dating just because we're hanging out together." 

"bullshit," she countered, "I see the way the two of you are with each other. these last few days have been very evident that there's something going on. Kyotani might not show it but it isn't exactly hard to see. plus, he had his arm around you when the two of you were walking in this morning." 

did he? You thought back and he did. you had no idea when you did it but now that she pointed it out, Kenta did have his arm tightly wrapped around you. the warm feeling soon started creeping up on your face as you tried to hide your face in the sweater. 

"shut up," you threatened as your friend started laughing, "we're not saying anything! just be careful, there's a reason why he's called Mad-Dog." 

you gave her a look before finally deciding to drop the conversation. It didn't sit right with you that she used Kyotani's nickname in such a negative way. 

-

lunch finally came and you were going towards your locker when you came in contact with the last person you wanted to see. 

your ex boyfriend was an ex for a reason. he wasn't the greatest person to be around nor was he someone you potentially wanted your mom to meet. he was toxic in the sense that all he wanted from you was sex. he thought that telling you that he loved you so early on in the relationship would get you to open your legs but you weren't an idiot. you knew the game he played. 

"what?" You asked harshly, "I have nothing to say to you so be on your way." 

he laughed as he put you in a kabedon position, "what the hell is up with you and that idiot from the volleyball team?" you growled as you tried to remove his hand from your locker. you had a decent amount of strength but it wasn't enough to move his hand, "none of your fucking business. what I do on my free time shouldn't affect you in anyway." 

finally getting enough strength to move his hand, you instantly freed yourself but he managed to wrangle you back into the same position. 

"It does concern me. especially because you're walking around Seijoh with that idiot's sweater. I thought I told you that you were mine," he threatened as he got closer to you, "and I don't like it when people get close to what is mine." 

just as you were about to argue back, you noticed a very angry Kyotani standing behind him. you gave him a slight wave as your ex turned around to see who exactly you were waving to at a time like this. 

"move," Kyotani didn’t bother to wait for his reply. he pushed him off of you and grabbed you by the hand, "let's go." 

because of the strength in Kyotani's push, your ex hit the lockers harshly. you couldn't help but laugh at the whimpering you heard. 

"thanks Kenta. hopefully he actually gets the message this time," Kyotani raised an eyebrow, "he's an ex boyfriend if you’re wondering. we dated for a bit last year but he kind of dumped me when he realized that I wasn't planning on giving into sex so quickly. he's had this kind of possessive thing going on with me ever since we broke up. the minute he realizes that someone is getting near me, he'll attack them or bombard me with questions." 

"he's a fucking idiot who needs to learn a lesson," Kyotani threatened. you laughed as you tried to hide your face, thanks for helping me though. I know you're not the kind of person to be helping people out for no reason." 

"I will when it comes to people that I like." 

-

the festivities were in full swing as the student government table was filled with students crowding around it. maybe it was because of the free merch, maybe it was because you actually managed to get the students to listen for once but whatever the case was, you were excited at the outcome. 

you and Rendai were sitting at the table as Midori was in the stands handing out different prizes to the attendee's. you were wearing regular blue jeans with rips across the pants and a black v-neck. 

"so, how are you and Mad-Dog?" ee asked as he noticed the team coming into the gym, "has he finally asked you out yet?"

"not yet," you said, “there's no rush. Kenta isn't exactly the one for PDA nor is the kind of person to be rushing into things." 

Rendai laughed, "wow, already on a first name basis? he must be thinking of asking you really soon," just as you wanted to say anything back, you noticed Kyotani coming towards the table. he was holding what looked like the Seijoh away jersey. 

"hey Kenta! What's up?" you asked with a smile that made Kyotani's heart flutter, "here, wear this," you took the jersey from Kyotani's hand and gave him a silent thank you. the redness on his face was very evident but you knew not to call it out. 

"ohoho, shit. I'm glad I'm the one who witnessed that," Rendai said as he started making fun of you, "the two of you are so in love! It's amazing!" 

you punched him in the arm as you got up from the table, "shut up. I'm going to change and if half of these buttons are still here by the time I get back, I'll kick you so hard you'll be gone for the next two weeks." 

Rendai put his arms up in defense as you walked out of the gym. finding the nearest bathroom, you took off the warm peacoat you had on and tried to make the rather large jersey fit your frame. you tried to tuck the jersey into your pants and tried to get the jersey look decent on you. 

you walked back into the gym with Rendai and Midori looking at you shit eating grins. you tried to hide your face in the jersey but as you made it to the table, you heard the comments coming from the two of you. 

"I guess Rendai wasn't lying!" Midori said as she looked at the way the jersey fit you, "It looks good! just fix the back, the number isn't really showing." 

you let her fix the jersey as the three of you eventually sat down. you weren't really the kind of person to watch volleyball but you were almost mesmerized to see the way Kyotani played. he played with such a force that it caught you off guard. 

//

the game went towards Seijoh's favor. they completely murdered Date Tech and to say you were happy was beyond words. with the elation of the team winning, you got a text from Kyotani to wait for him until he was done getting dressed. 

the game thankfully landed on a Friday so your curfew was pushed back a little later on the weekend. you were planning on catching dinner with Kyotani so as he was getting ready, you stayed back talking to few students who were interested in becoming apart of student government. 

you were able to tell that one of the boys were trying to flirt with you but you kept denying any advances. you wondered what part of you wearing Kyotani's jersey didn't sit with him but you basically tried to tell him that you were already in the process of dating someone else. 

"well, it looks like your friends are waiting for you," you mentioned as you pointed to the group of boys at the front of the gym, "I'll have one of my club members email you any information that you might want." 

the boy sighed, "I'll be waiting on your email." with that, he grabbed your hand and kissed the back of it before running off with his friends. you rolled your eyes as you stood in the empty gym. just as you went to sit on the first set of bleachers, you noticed a very angry Kyotani walking in. 

"hey, what's wrong?" you asked as you grabbed his hand, "did someone say something?" 

"who was that boy?" Kyotani growled as he completely towered over you, "the boy who just left? Some first year who was trying to join the student government." 

he laughed which caught you off guard, "I seen him kissing your hand." 

"he was trying to flirt with me but I wasn't going for it." You said as grabbed Kyotani's hand, "Kenta, you know more than anyone how I feel about you. some first year kid won't ever amount to you." 

Kyotani immediately blushed as he dropped down to his knees. he might be one of the shortest on the team but considering he was basically towering over you, seeing him fall on his knees caused you to panic. 

"hey, what happened?" you asked as you lifted his head up, "what's wrong, Kenta?" 

he looked into your eyes with a serious expression, "I've worked too hard to get you for me just to lose you. I won't have anyone come in between us," you gave him a sympathetic smile, "Kenta, no one is going to come between us. I like you and you like me. yeah this might be your first relationship but it isn't my first. whatever insecurities you have, we'll work through them together." 

Kyotani did the only thing he could think of and kissed you. he trapped you between himself and the bleachers. your arms instantly wrapped themselves around his neck and you deepened the kiss. not long after, you moved your hands to run through his hair. It was ironically softer than you expected. 

"Kenta, not here and not now. I might give in and I really don't want my first time to be in the Seijoh gym," you said as you went in for another kiss. After Kyotani released you again, he chuckled, "I can assure you that our first time won't be in this gym. now let's go, I'm hungry."

you laughed as Kyotani got off of you. as soon as you landed back on your feet, he pushed you against him. the night had already came in and the parking lot was completely empty aside from the two of you. you realized that you and Kyotani were matching clothes in a sense. you were wearing his away jersey with the spare volleyball sweater he gave you as he was still wearing the jersey he was playing in and the current sweater they were supposed to wear. 

"where are we getting food?" you asked as you jumped into the drivers seat. Kyotani made himself comfortable in your passenger seat as he shrugged. "wherever. I don't care." 

you smiled and leaned over for a kiss which caught Kyotani off guard. he returned the kiss before he let you go. as you started the car, Kyotani grabbed your right hand and kissed it as you started driving to the nearest restaurant. 

maybe the two of you weren't exactly a couple that Seijoh would have seen coming but at the moment, you were happiest you had ever been. you had your boyfriend sitting next to you, holding your hand and to think that this all started off because of a measly mock trial.

ALITA 

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu!! imagine #kyoutani x reader #kyoutani kentarou #kyoutani imagine #kyoutani kentarou imagine #anime imagine #anime x reader #anime x you

[gallavictorious]

Fic: Foreign Country

For fuck’s sake... So I got an ask in response to this comment, wherein the lovely nonnie suggested that Ian and Mickey’s reaction to the Kash and Grab would be a reverse sort of situation, with that place holding very happy memories in spite of being a site of trauma (because Kash shot Mickey there). I’m paraphrasing here, obviously... And I spent over a week trying to write the fic that this ask (unintentionally) inspired and now when I posted it Tumblr was messing with the ‘Read more’ so I, stupid and/or tired bastard that I am, deleted the thing to repost it but of course that means the ask is gone aaaaand yeah. I AM SO SORRY NONNIE! :( Hope this one finds you all the same.

Anyway, here’s my resonse:

Ah, yes. Yes! Nonnie, I applaud your dedication to sparking joy and thank you for sharing this delightful reflection! <3 And, uh, it got me thinking about the Kash and Grab and its role as the site of so much that went down with Ian and Mickey in the early years, and yeah, now there’s a ficlet. It involves a trip down memory lane, some angst, some fluff, and a rather startling number of I love you:s. It’s also the reason why it took me so damned long to get back to you… Sorry about that!

Did you ask me to write this? No. Does it stay completely true to your observation rather than carelessly running with it? Also no, but with slightly more regret.  

---

Never returning had not been a conscious choice. Neither was going back.

---

Chicago, on a Thursday afternoon in early October, and the air is unusually crisp when Ian steps out from the ambulance station. He's been working the early shift and now he pauses on the sidewalk and turns his face towards the sun, considering. No one's expecting him for another few hours, and it's a fine day: maybe he needn't rush home. Maybe he could walk for a bit.

It's an idea. He's feeling restless, though not the sort of restless that heralds the on-set of a manic episode (or so he thinks, but he makes a mental note to keep an eye out for other signs, and maybe mention it to Mickey). But yeah. He could walk for a bit, then maybe find a station for the L when he tires.

So he walks. Walks and walks and doesn’t tire, and eventually he finds himself on a familiar street and outside a familiar store and he realizes with a start that he hasn't been here in years. Hadn't even known the store was still open, but the sign on the door proudly proclaims it so, and above it the name remains the same, white letters on red: Kash and Grab.

Huh. Without making a conscious decision to, he's stopped walking and is just standing there, staring at the store. The sight of it brings a strange jumble of emotions, and the quietly jarring mingle of familiarty and distance that comes from returning to a place where once you did belong, but belong no longer.

The last time he stood here was the day before he ran off to join the Army, leaving Linda with nothing more than a short message on her phone. That’s more than what his family got, so he hopes she wasn’t too upset. He never asked; never came back; never really thought back – until now.

He hesitates for a moment, then walks up to the door and steps inside. He’s running low on smokes anyway.

It's the smell that hits him first. It hasn't changed, and brings him back to the days when it would cling to his clothes and follow him home, a not unpleasant but distinctive whiff of frozen food and sweet spices.

The interior hasn't changed much either. There’s a kid behind the counter that looks to be in his early teens, and Ian wonders if it’s one of Kash’s sons, if Linda's still running the store. He could ask, but who knows what Linda's told her kids about the teenager who fucked their closeted father before he ran off?

He glances at the boy again – and yeah, he could be Kash's, there's something about the eyes and the chin – and wonders if he ever looked that young when he manned the register. Wonders if that's what he looked like to Mickey, when he'd come into the store to just take whatever the hell he wanted, wether it was chips or, later, Ian's fucking breath away.

Ian Gallagher. You messed with the wrong girl.

And just like that, it's like no time's passed, and he's 15 and 16 and 17 again; he's doing it with Kash and he thinks he loves him; he excels at ROTC and dreams of Westpoint; his mother is alive and he doesn’t yet know that Frank isn’t his father at all – it hardly matters anyhow, because Fiona is there, as she has always been there, as he still thinks she will always be.

She got out and good for her. If she'd stayed here, she'd never been free of her role as sister-mother – never free to be Fiona. And as for him... he'd mourned the army dream when it died, but knows now that it was an uninformed dream, one he would not have cared to live even if  given the opportunity.

Glancing at the counter where he used to open his trigonomy textbook he feels no regret, though perhaps a twinge of sadness for the loss of that optimistic, determined kid, who had not had an easy life by any means, but who had yet to take any real blows, any blows that truly mattered. Those had come later (had come in this very store, some of them) and standing here, where he'd spent so much time as a child and none as a man, he feels something of that kid returning. Remembers the weight of the hundreth can put on a shelf; feels the ghost of a (too) easy smile on his lips; sees himself as he moves between the backroom and counter and fridge.

And everywhere he looks, there is Mickey. Mickey, in a dirty coat or a security west, angry and rough and funny and sometimes with the briefest flash of something softer, sweeter. He is stealing and scaring of thieving kids and restocking the shelves and plotting to murder Frank and moaning as Ian pushes into him.

He is on the floor, too, cursing Kash but otherwise strangely unaffected by having been shot. Ian thinks he might have been more scared and upset than Mickey. It strikes him now as a moment of innocence lost; your lover shot by a jealous ex, a real gun and real blood and what if Kash had had better aim? This was a thing that happened in the world, and if that could happen – anything could.

It strikes him, too, as a turning point: Mickey going away could easily have spelled the end of their intense but brief affair. For all they knew each other's bodies they hadn't really know each other back then, and while Ian had been crushing hard he had not yet loved Mickey. Perhaps they might both have moved on, found other lives and loves. Perhaps that had still been possible, then.

Or perhaps not. It was the first time they were separated and the first time they found their way back to one another, but not the last. It's a dance of coming together and coming apart and coming together, again and again, and they've traced its steps for close to a decade, never once stopping, not truly.

Because even in the absences, Mickey had been, is; there, always, in the stretches of time when he was locked up in juvie; in the eager hours of wating for him to show up at the store; in the exact distance between them at any given time.

Ian can still feel the jolt, like a punch to his gut, like electricity, of looking up from stacking oranges and finding blue eyes staring straight into his.

He remembers the last time they were in here together, when him and his siblings had been taken away by the CPS and Mickey invited him to crash at his place. He remembers his giddy delight at the question, his excitement at the realization that Mickey wanted to spend time with him. He had been so nervous, and looking back, knowing what he now knows, he thinks that Mickey might have been fucking terrified, but there'd been such ease to that evening and night; such familiarty and tenderness. And oh, the sex had been fantastic.

He tries to remember only this, not what came after with the morning light and a door suddenly slammed open –

Mickey had never returned to the store after that, and a few months later Ian had left for the army. Not really for the army, though; what he'd been moving towards had not been nearly as important as what he was moving away from.

Stings, still, that memory; but less than it once did, and as he strolls down the aisles, noting where the pickled cucumber jars have been replaced with tins of tuna and where the small bottles of cheap olive oil still remain, he is surprised to find himself... okay. For a long time, so much of his past had been a painful, tangled thing he did his best to forget, and even after he made his peace with it, he made a point of looking forward rather than back. Now he thinks that maybe, if you're happy with where you ended up, the hardships of the road which led you there are easier to bear.

Doesn't make everything that happened right; just... yeah. Easier to bear.

He buys a pack of cigarettes. The kid behind the counter is eyeing him suspiciously, but Ian thinks that has more to do with him walking around the store and staring at random things rather than with the boy recognizing him from some lurid tale of Linda's. Ian almost asks him to say hello to her from him, but nah. Let old dogs lie.

Outside, twilight is coming on, and there's a slight chill to the air now that the sun is sinking. Ian lights a cigarette and sucks the smoke deep into his lungs. This, too, is familiar, and for a moment he feels unthethered, unsure of when he is, who he is.

Without really thinking about it, he picks up his phone. Mickey's still working but can't be too busy because he answers on the second signal: “Hey.”

“Hey,” Ian says, and then he doesn't say anything else for long enough that Mickey asks him if he fucking wanted something or he's just being a creepy ass phone stalker.

It makes Ian smile. Grounds him. “I love you,” he says.

A beat. “You called me at fucking work to tell me that?” And Ian knows that the gruff disbelief is partially an attempt to cover Mickey's surprised delight at the proclamation.

“Yeah, I guess I did,” he says. Waits for a moment, but Mickey is silent. “You gonna say it back?”

“You fucking serious?”

“Kinda need to hear it.” Because he gets to say that; gets to ask for that. They're not kids not anymore and they don't need to hide. They’re fucking married.

That is real. That is now.

“Jesus Christ, Ian.” But then Mickey, as Ian knew he would, relents. “I love you,” he says, and Ian doesn't know if he's already alone or if he just doesn't care who overhears him, because he doesn't lower his voice or take the time to move somewhere more private.

A brief silence as neither of them speak, but simply rest in the warmth of the words, the truth of them.

Then: “Are you okay?” There's a trace of real worry in Mickey's voice now, and there's a part of Ian's that immediately annoyed because he hates that people worry about him so easily – but a larger part of him has made his peace with it; knows and accepts the reason for it; loves that Mickey loves him enough to worry.

So he offers a brief smile, even though Mickey cannot see it. Hopes it translates into his voice.  “Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine, I promise, it's just... I'll tell you when you get home, okay?”

“Okay.” And maybe Mickey isn't convinced but he takes Ian's word for it. Trust. That's another thing they've been doing better with. “I'll see you in maybe an hour then? I get off at five.”

”Yeah, I'll see you then.” And, because he can, because it's true: ”I love you.”

“Yeah, yeah, you fucking said that already.” A brief pause, then quietly: “I love you, too.”

They hang up. Throwing one last look at Kash and Grab before he walks off, Ian is pleased to realize that he feels nothing but a vague sense of affection for the place. Some things withered and was left here, sure, youthful dreams and ambitions and most of his naivite – but the best thing about it he kept, and Ian will see him soon and hold him soon, and this time he will neither leave nor let him go. Their new dance will move to a different beat.

#asks #gallavich #i am so mad at myself and tumblr right now #also the use of semicolons in this one is absurd #sorry not sorry #fic #my stuff

[dizzydancingdreamer]

Okay just imagine going to college with Scott and he fuckinff looks like this I ASJEBDHSBS-

Going to University with Scott Lang

Pairing: Scott Lang x Art History Student F!Reader

Word Count: 2k ish

Notes: this got away from me but all of my exchanges with you today literally put me in such a Scott mood and this gif sealed the deal— Thank you for the unitentional inspo Eris <3

*Unedited and will remain that way until tmr*

Headcannons below the cut

→ Always, always, always reading— her professors insist on assigning at least four books a class and it becomes insufferable at times but he's always there with a shoulder rub or a warm hoodie or another iced coffee

→ It's actually how they met: she was running terribly late to class and her arms were piled with those treacherous books and she was rounding the corner, vision obstructed, and boom she was suddenly not running but instead sprawled across the sidewalk alongside her books, knees scraped because she had insisted on wearing shorts in October

→ And an oof sounded from beside her and there was this lanky boy with curly brown hair and these bright blue eyes and she wanted to cry because of course she had bumped into a cute boy but then he started laughing and his laugh sounded like melted ice-cream in july— all gooey and warm and friendly— and god she really needed a friend and just like that she was laughing too

→ He called her out after that— you're a freshman, yeah— and her face felt like it was on fire but she was still riding that giddy high of laughter so she stuck out her hand and waited for him to take it before proclaiming— yep and a painfully late one at that; what's with all the hallways here?— and he laughed again because— Couldn't tell you; I'm a second year and I still get lost

→ And then he jumped to his feet and and held out a hand and introduced himself with a quick— I'm Scott— and she took his hand and offered her own name and, with the last dregs of laughter still in her and the desperate need to have at least one friend, tested her luck— Say since I'm already late do you maybe wanna' show me around a little? If you think you can remember the way, that is

→ And his ears turned pink and his cheeks too but of course he said yes because he may be clumsy and had been looking down when she turned to corner and his knee now kind of hurt too but he wasn't stupid— he's many things but a man who turns down an offer to spend a few hours with a pretty girl isn't one

→ So yeah she's always, always, always reading but without the reading she wouldn't have met her best friend so it's really not that much of a price to pay

→ The other thing her professors insist on are visiting the local museums in the area— she doesn't mind that one nearly as much— she loves the atmosphere and being around the paintings and sculptures and the whole of the museums— especially when she manages to drag Scott along

→ Drag, trail after him as he drags her through the museum almost more excited to be there than her, same thing

→ They've gotten some dirty stares before from how loud he talks about the art and, well, the things he says about the art but she doesn't care— he makes her feel warm and happy and laugh— gods she hasn't stopped laughing since that day in freshman year— he may not understand the concepts or the abstract pieces or even some of the basic pieces but he tries and his hand is always in hers

→ In turn she sneaks into the back of his physics classes, dodging the stares from his professors who wouldn't say anything anyway because Scott is an A+ student despite how much he downplays it and they need him in their class

→ She usually just dozes off because for some reason his class is at seven pm and she's already exhausted from her own classes so she just tugs on his hoodie sleeve until he peels it off and passes it to her in which she hastily pulls it on and pulls the hood up, tightening the strings and slumping in her seat

→ Often times she ends up with her head on his shoulder, knees tucked against her chest, or, if she's especially tired, with her head on his lap which— while it's cramped— is surprisingly comfortable— usually his hand ends up on her shoulder or her head— honestly half the time he falls asleep too— the back row is good for that

→ Their fave hangout spot is her dorm room— it would be his but he has a roommate who has a disturbing lack of cleanliness and somehow manages to get his socks on Scott's side of the room— and with her scholarship she got one of the sparse single dorms and always teases him with it

→ "You wanna' come over and study tonight?" "Don't you mean study at mine?" "Shut up I get it— you have the better dorm. Will you ever not hold that over me?" "Never, Scotty."

→ Half the time they just end up falling asleep on her bed— their relationship is built quite heavily on naps— they fall asleep with a good amount of distance between them but somehow always manage to wake up sprawled on top of one another— they both blame it on the other when they wake up and jump away from each other and get all awkward about it until one of them laughs and crawls back to the other, all but yanking them into their arms like why do we do this every time can't we just cuddle

→ After that they do cuddle and a lot— at football games, at the coffee shop, in the library, at campus movie nights, at parties— everywhere— they were inseperable before but now it's so bad and all their friends groan when they see it but they shrug it off like sorry you're a touchstarved Uni kid but we refuse to play by that narrative— like they're always spouting some bullshit that makes their friends groan even louder but laugh

→ He's huge on nicknames— mona lisa, bugs, kid (that one makes her so mad because Scott I'm a year younger than you and he just laughs), clutz, and— when the clock reads well after midnight and somehow they've gravitated towards each other and he can't help but pull her against his chest— baby (he blames it on the late hour and being tired and doesn't stop to realize that she adores it and him)

→ She's not as good at nicknames, only calling him Scotty or sir trips-a-lot because for as much as he tells her she's clumsy he sure as hell falls a lot

→ As nerdy as he is I refuse to believe that he also isn't a little Alt— later in life he goes on to pull a Robin Hood Esque heist so I have a feeling he also wore black jeans that were ripped at the knees and was cool enough to frequent his fair share of house parties— he may be clumsy and kinda dorky but he's still hot and got the invites

→ Of course he brings her despite how much she digs her heels in and tries to bribe him— but Scotty I saw the movie theatre was playing that movie you wanted to see don't you want to go— and he just laughs like we can go after class on Tuesday nice try

→ So she tries again— but Scotty I have a test on Monday I really think I should study— and he just shakes his head because we both know you know the material inside and out Bugs just c'mon it'll be fun I won't leave your side you know that

→ And he's right and she knows he's right and she's kind of pissed that he can read her that well but finally she caves because she is kind of craving a night of heavy bass and warm coolers and that's exactly what the night has in store for her— dancing with her best friend and drinking sugary vodka coolers and stumbling over him with his hands all over her and it hits her in that drunk moment that that's why she said yet— because when they go to parties together his arms are always around her, half dancing, half protecting her and she craves it

→ Her favourite part of the night is walking back to her dorm room with him in tow, hands crawling up her sides, respectfully but grabby, clingy, giggling as they stumble across the green, clutching at each other's sweaters and tripping a few times, often rolling down the hills and screaming at two am as they end up on top of one another

→ One night they had just stayed like that, sprawled under the stars for a few hours just talking— it was that night that he told her so many things she would have never thought— that he's scared of disappointing his parents and that sometimes he wonders if people actually like him and that he doesn't actually like physics all that much, that part of him wishes he had gone for something different, but then he takes that part back— he doesn't hate it he just fucked a test up and it's been eating at him

→ In turn she told him that before she met him she'd never even had a best friend, that her family is depending on her and her scholarship, that she's scared she won't be able to make a career out of art history, and that she's scared he's going to leave her—

→ And he had rolled over— which was a little hard considering she was on top of him— and leaned over her with a dopey grin but serious eyes, hoodie smelling of grass and cinnamon buns, and told her that she's a literal dummy if she could think that he would leave her and that he's the one whose waiting for her to realize that he's just an average guy whose jokes aren't all that great and that if anyone is in the position to do the leaving then it's her

→ She had just smacked his shoulder and told him to never say something so stupid again or she just might leave before pushing him back down and reclaiming her spot

→ Needless to say that was one of the best nights of her life and so from then she always says yes to his invites— he doesn't ask often anyway, half the time he's the one asking to stay in anyway for a marathon of Star Wars movies or monopoly or take out or all three

→ He geeks out and tries to explain all the movies to her despite the fact that Scotty we watch these once a month I understand the plot but he just pouts until she lets him explain anyway— she doesn't mind anyway, she just likes teasing him and seeing his neck turn red— besides it's cute when he goes on tangents and he does know some fascinating facts

→ She always wins at Monopoly— she isn't good at it at all but she always wins— enough said

→ He orders the orange chicken and spring rolls and green pepper beef and she orders the chicken fried rice and the dumplings and insists every time that she wants none of his but he orders extra anyway because you say that every time and then I blink and all mine is gone and she just simpers with a quiet you love me Scotty and he gets all flustered because wow she just said that and yeah you're right but if anyone asked I would deny it

→ God no he wouldn't

→ They're helplessly slow burn, both clueless as to the other's feelings but also not? It's more like they're okay with where they are and kinda want to kiss so bad but need that 5% extra reassurance and every time they get close they either get interupted or back out not wanting to ruin their friendship

→ But at this point everyone is basically like when are you two getting married

→ Like everyone— friends, random old couples at the coffee shop, his mom when she meets her at thanksgiving

→ Even her Russian Modernism professor told her that you and your boyfriend are really adorable and she had to stammer her way through explaining that no we aren't dating it's not like that and her professor had just passed her a sly smile and said not yet

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Part two?

#Scott Lang #Scott Lang x reader #Scott Lang x y/n #scott lang headcannons #ant man #ant man headcannons #scott lang headcanons #ant man headcanons #scott lang fluff #ant man fluff #ant man x reader #ant man x y/n #mcu headcanons #mcu headcannons #mcu #marvel cinematic universe

[71tenseventeen]

Take My Hand (Take My Whole Life Too)-26

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25 Warnings for sexual content, male pregnancy, implied homophobia, non-hockey Sid. Sid and Taylor’s ages have been altered to fit the story.

Perpetual credit to my betas, @queen-alia and @icosahedonist and to @cakemakethme and @ljummen for helping me along!

November

The heat breaks in October but November finally brings the cool, crisp air that Sid has been waiting for and not a moment too soon. He’s past most of the nausea but even when the temperatures had first dropped to something more manageable, he’d still felt uncomfortably warm most of the time. Most days he’d puttered around in his increasingly snug basketball shorts and any variety of Pens tees that seemed to be constantly popping up on his side of the closet. 

It’s not until it’s finally chilly enough for him to pull on his sweats that he realizes he’s nearly outgrown those too, much to Geno’s delight. 

“Is good thing you growing, Sid! Means baby growing too, getting big and strong. Most healthy.” He chatters as Sid works up a sweat struggling into the pants before collapsing on the bed with a frustrated groan. 

“I know,” he sighs, wriggling around until his head is propped up on several pillows so he’s not laying flat anymore. “It’s just these were my favorite and now they barely fit.” 

Geno sits next to him, lowering a gentle hand to his belly. “Time to buy new. Need warm clothes for winter and you only going to keep growing.” 

“Don’t remind me.” 

“We get online after breakfast, order you lots of clothes.” 

“G—”

But Geno cuts him off. “If you not show what you like, I order what I like.” 

That gets Sid’s attention and he finally raises his head. “Okay, you win! Please don’t do that. I’ll pick out some clothes.” 

Geno laughs and pats Sid’s thigh before standing up and extending a hand to help him up. “Thought you might change mind.” 

When clothes start arriving just two days later, Sid doesn’t even balk. It’s so nice to have clothes that fit or are even big on him. He’s so grateful that he just hugs Geno, thanking him profusely. 

Sid starts to feel settled in a way he hadn’t thought possible. He has routines now, structuring most of his days around online classwork, exercise, naps, practice and the part time online tutoring job he picked up. When Geno is home, he joins Sid for walks around the property once or twice a day and even does yoga with him occasionally. 

Geno tries to go to as many appointments with Sid as possible and he’s there the day Dr. Agarwal does the ultrasound that reveals their baby’s sex. 

Realistically, it doesn’t matter. Geno’s been dragging tiny Pens clothes, stuffed animals and baby things home here and there since before Sid moved in. They’ve started looking at baby furniture online and even settled on a pale, creamy gray to paint the room that will be converted to a nursery. 

Knowing the sex of the baby won’t change any of that but Sid still finds himself unable to stop smiling after the doctor says they’re having a boy. 

And Geno—Geno is elated.

The moment Sid sits up Geno is reaching for him, pulling him into a tight hug, speaking low Russian in his ear—way too fast for Sid to parse out even one familiar word so he just lets it wash over him. When they finally pull apart, he’s surprised to see Geno’s eyes a little shiny and red. He’s still smiling, though and Sid laughs softly. “I guess I didn’t realize how much you wanted a boy.” 

Geno shakes his head. “Not matter, Sid. Don’t care if boy or girl just special to know. Not sure I can explain but it feels even more real now. Knowing this feels like I know our baby a little more, know him a little more.”  

Sid gets it so he just nods, beaming up at Geno as he replies softly, “Yeah.” 

The moment they’re in the car, Geno reaches over to squeeze Sid’s hand. “He needs a name.” 

Sid takes a deep breath. He’s been thinking about that, has even spent time flipping through baby name books but now it feels even more important. 

That night they eat dinner side by side, flipping through list after list of baby names on Geno’s tablet. 

Two days later Sid stares at his phone, willing himself to dial his parents number. 

They’d decided together to wait a couple of days—not because it’s a secret but they just wanted a little time to bask in the news before dealing with all the tension of talking to their parents. But now it’s time; after breakfast Geno had squared his shoulders, squeezed Sid’s wrist and headed to his office to call his parents while Sid settles on the couch to do the same.

Trina answers and just as expected her voice goes tense when Sid asks, “Is Dad there too? I was hoping to talk to both of you.”  

“Oh?” She asks, obviously trying and failing to sound casual. “Everything okay?” 

“Great actually,” he replies, trying to keep his tone cheerful. “We, um, we got some news.” 

“Give me a second—I’ll get your Father”

Sid waits while she rounds up Troy and puts the call on speaker so they can both hear. 

“Hey kiddo.” Troy sounds tentative. 

“Hey Dad. I just wanted to tell you guys—It’s a boy. We’re having a boy.” He can’t stop the smile that spreads across his face as he says it.  

He hears a moment of Troy’s deep chuckle before Trina exclaims, “Oh Sidney! That’s wonderful!” She really sounds like she means it and he feels giddy as he tells them more about the appointment. 

Sid hears the feigned nonchalance return to her voice when she asks carefully,  “Does—did you tell the other dad?” 

“He was there with me, actually. We found out together and he’s—” Sid doesn’t think happy even halfway covers Geno’s current mood but he can’t imagine how to put it into words. “He’s really happy. We both are. I mean, we would have been happy either way but knowing is just… it’s like we know him now. It’s kind of cool.” 

Trina’s voice sounds a little choked when she replies. “I know exactly what you mean, Sidney.” 

“Mom are you crying?” 

He hears a soft laugh and a sniffle. “Just happy tears.” 

“So uh,” Troy starts as Trina blows her nose loudly in the background. “Is living together still working out? Are you two getting along?” 

“Yeah of course. He’s great. He’s… He’s just really, really great.” 

“And you’re getting by? Financially?” 

“Yes,” Sid says. If they only knew. “Did I tell you I found a job tutoring online part time? I don’t make much but I’m saving it all.” 

“And he’s, ah, paying for everything else? He makes sure you have what you need?” Troy asks awkwardly, startling a laugh out of Sid. 

“More than enough, Dad. Trust me. Sometimes I can’t get him to stop buying me stuff.” 

“He must have a good job if he can do that.” 

Sid clears his throat. “Yeah, it’s—yeah he’s got a really good job.” Part of him hopes they’ll let it drop. They don’t. 

“What does he do?” Now it’s Troy’s turn to fake sounding casual. 

Sid’s not entirely sure why he hasn’t told them the full truth yet. Geno has said it’s okay. Taylor knows. And realistically, it would hopefully take away their concerns about his financial situation but he knows it’s not that simple. He worries telling them will bring up a whole host of new questions and until now, he hasn’t felt ready to tackle that. But he’s never going to get a better opening and they have to find out sometime so he takes another deep breath and says quietly, “He, um, he plays hockey. Professionally.” 

There’s a long pause and Sid tries to slow his breathing, anxiety rising every moment his parents remain silent. 

“He’s—he plays hockey. What do you mean professionally?” 

“Um, he’s in the, uh, NHL. On the Pens, the captain, actually.”

“That’s who you’re living with?!” Sid knew Troy would know perfectly well who Geno is but he doesn’t think he’s ever heard his dad’s voice squeak like that. 

“Yes and I’m really sorry but you can’t tell anyone.”

There’s a long pause before Troy speaks again, voice gruff. “Why?” 

“Come on Dad. An NHL Captain? It could be really bad if it got out.” 

“So he’s keeping you and the baby a secret.”

“No. The team knows, most of the organization knows. He has their support and he’s working with PR.” 

“And PR wants you to be kept a secret.” 

“I know how it sounds but this is a decision we both made. He’s Russian, Dad! Do you understand what that means? If this gets out here it could be bad for both of us, but if it gets out there? It will be a lot worse than just some people being shitty about it. We have to be really careful.”

“So this is all about protecting him.” 

“No. No!” Sid huffs, frustrated. “He’s doing everything he can to protect all of us!” 

“This is not good, Sid. You have to understand why this worries us.” 

“I do but you have to trust me. The people we’re working with have a lot of experience—legally and with public relations. They know what they’re doing. I trust them.” 

There’s a pause before Troy clears his throat and says tentatively. “Your, ah, your mother and I have some money set back. Maybe we should think about getting you your own lawyer.” 

“That’s not necessary, Dad.” 

“Sid, he could take the baby and it would be very, very hard to get your rights back. Money talks. But if you have some protection, some insurance beforehand—”

“No.” Sid does is best to sound firm—he has to shut this down. “We’re not doing that.” 

“But—”

“I’m not doing that and I’m not going to argue about it.” 

He hears Troy sigh heavily. “Okay Sid. If we have to keep it a secret for now then that’s what we’ll do but only for you.” 

“That’s all I ask.” 

Sid wraps up the call as quickly as he can after that, muddling through the awkward goodbyes. 

After he ends the call, he drops the phone onto the cushion next to him and closes his eyes, breathing deeply until he feels a gentle hand on his shoulder. He twists to look up into Geno’s worried, weary eyes. 

“You okay?” 

Sid nods before letting out a long breath. “Yeah. It’s just stressful, that’s all. Are you okay?” 

Geno nods, looking just as worn out as Sid feels but before he can say anything else Geno lifts his other hand. “Here. Think this might help,” he says with a soft smile as he hands over the pint of Sid’s favorite chocolate marshmallow swirl and a spoon. 

Sid smiles, taking it gratefully as Geno rounds the couch and settles in next to him. 

The first bite is heavenly. “You’re right,” he mumbles around a mouthful. “This helps.” He scoops out another spoonful and holds it out to Geno. “Want some?” 

“Shouldn’t. Not on meal plan.” But he takes the bite anyway, grinning at the laughter that bubbles up out of Sid. 

He settles in closer, reaching for Sid’s ever-growing belly. “Okay?”

Sid smiles softly. “Always.” 

Geno hunches down a little more, sliding his hand under Sid’s shirt as he starts talking, rubbing idly as he talks quietly. It always relaxes Sid and he doesn’t think he’s imagining the way the baby settles, too. He lets the soft words wash over him as he leans into Geno’s side, letting the stress of the phone call slip away. Maybe Sid’s parents don’t understand how lucky he is, how lucky the baby is to have Geno but he does and right now that’s all that matters.

Part 27

#Take My Hand #sidgeno #My fic #part 26 #mpreg

[kusunogatari]

[ ObiRyū October | Day Twenty-Seven | Upside Down ] [ @abyssaldespair ] [ Uchiha Obito, Suigin Ryū, Hatake Kakashi ] [ Verse: Into the Abyss ]

[ Previous ] [ Next ]

“Seal team?”

“Ready.”

“Witnesses?”

Along a wall, the other four Kage watch dourly, expressions and poses wary. “...ready,” Gaara offers, arms crossed but otherwise appearing neutral. Quite a change from A’s teeth-grinding grimace. Both Mei and Kurotsuchi mimic Gaara’s cool look, each a shade of curious.

Giving the group an unreadable glance, Kakashi’s eyes then look back to the subject at hand. “...Obito?”

The Uchiha, currently kept strapped and sealed in a chair at the center of the chamber, heaves a soft sigh. “...ready.”

Around them, a small group is allowed to gather: a record’s keeper to document the event, a backup squad of ANBU...and Obito’s wife.

It’s her he glances to as the four-man cell of fūinjutsu experts surround him in preparation. She looks unusually tense, face drawn and eyes flickering over the room before meeting his own. For a moment, she attempts a smile...but it doesn’t quite register.

He knows she’s nervous. This is, after all, a big day.

For over a year now, he’s had basic access to his chakra, kekkei genkai unlocked only when sent on missions and after prior approval from all five Kage. But after having proved no (current) intention to misuse or mishandle his abilities, Obito is being granted unfettered access to his bloodline limit, and his chakra.

All that will remain of his prior seals will be the Hyūga-like imprint kept at the rear of his head, under his hair: one that, when activated by a small, trusted group of individuals, will completely immobilize him and cut off access to any energy or Sharingan.

It’s never been used...and for that he finds himself thankful.

And he doesn’t plan on it ever being used, either.

Once in position, the seal team all hold their hands aloft, pointed at Obito.

“...begin.”

In rapid, synchronized succession, they all begin forming a series of hand signs. Only once the long, complicated string of gestures is complete do they all lay a hand on Obito’s body: one on each shoulder, one on his back, and one on his chest.

A hot flash of chakra washes over him, earning a quick grunt of pain as the previous seals are released. Along his stomach where they glow, they flash a bright white...and then fade.

Silence falls over the room.

“...and with that, I think we’re finished,” Kakashi offers, hands in his pockets and stance loose as a sign of trust. He blinks owlishly.

Behind him, the ANBU remain tensed.

“Go ahead and unbind him.”

There’s a tick of hesitation, and then the seal team does as ordered. The seal-laden straps along Obito’s ankles and wrists are released.

He doesn’t do much beyond giving a subtle look around. One wrong move, he knows, and he’ll be slammed to the floor and restrained.

Another thing he’d rather avoid.

“...well, as you all can see, he’s hardly leaping up and beginning to destroy the village,” Kakashi then notes, tone almost jovial. “The restraining seal is still in place, and still accessible by myself, the ANBU captain, the other Kage, and his caretaker. If anything happens - which, as I’ve reiterated a hundred times, I doubt - then we can immediately bring him to a stop and reapply the removed seals.”

Unbidden, Obito’s nose wrinkles. They still have to refer to Ryū as his ‘caretaker’, given her supposed role as his control switch. It bothers the hell out of him, but...well, it’s one of the major factors that’s let him come this far. Without her so-called ‘hold’ on him, ensuring he behaves, he’d probably still have his chakra sealed by now. But with her as both a lock and a bargaining chip, he’s managed to earn his way up to this point through good behavior and her diligent reports and management.

Neither of them like it, but...it’s the price they pay.

“So, with that, I believe we’re finished here. The records department will provide copies of the process’ transcripts to all of the Kage for their records. We’ll have the rest of our meeting, and then you’ll all be free to return to your villages, so long as nothing goes wrong. ANBU, you are dismissed - records, you’re free to go make those copies. If you would, fellow Kage, we’ll return to my office to finish our business before retiring for the afternoon.” He then gives his friend a glance. “...and you’re free to go. Just behave yourself.”

“No plans not to,” Obito replies with a sigh, remaining seated as everyone else makes to leave the room.

Everyone but Ryū.

Only once the chamber is empty does she cross the space between them with quiet footsteps. “...well, that went about as smoothly as we could have asked,” she offers dryly, letting a hand come to rest on his shoulder. “Are you all right…?”

“Fine. Stung for a moment but that was it.” As a test, he builds chakra behind his eyes to summon his Sharingan, and then the Mangekyō.

Ryū watches wordlessly, expression unreadable.

“Everything seems to be in working order,” he reports, letting the red eyes fade back to black. “...still odd to have both, though.”

That earns a whisper of a snort.

Considering her silently, Obito then asks, “...are you all right?”

She seems to weigh that question for a moment. “...yes and no. I’m glad you have your freedom back, at least as far as they’ll ever allow. But I’m worried.”

“Why?”

“Because now they have an even greater excuse to hurt you if something goes wrong. You’ll be punished far worse now than before should something go awry.”

Obito wilts a bit, reaching and taking her hands. “It’s going to be fine. We just have to be careful.”

“I know...but there’s only so much we can do.” At his questioning look, she explains, “You still have enemies. People who might try to harm us. And while you should be allowed to fight back, any lean out of line has the potential to see you blamed and punished.”

He sighs. “...true. But we’ll just have to keep going and roll with whatever punches we’re given. Kakashi, I’m sure, will have thought of this too. He’ll be keeping an eye out.”

The wrinkle of worry in her brow doesn’t ease, giving only a hum of affirmation.

“Well...let’s go home,” he offers after a lengthy pause. “You’ve been on your feet all day.”

At that, Ryū gives him a weary glance. “I’m fine.”

Obito pointedly ignores her, standing and letting hands rest on her waist for a moment. Which is getting harder and harder to do, given the swell of her middle.

Looking at it still gets him giddy. Touching it? He’s over the moon.

Part of him still has a hard time comprehending that their baby is growing in there. Their baby…! A conception that was a struggle in and of itself.

Which is why, after so much effort, he tends to get a little...overprotective at times. Besides Kakashi (and maybe to an extent, Naruto), he really doesn’t have anyone else he trusts, let alone cares for.

Gods help anyone that tries to do them harm.

Ignoring her pout, Obito then lets an arm rest across her shoulders, the pair of them leaving the sealing chamber behind. He knows that, for the next couple of weeks at least, he’s going to be watched like a hawk by the ANBU...and not necessarily at Kakashi’s orders. By now the Rokudaime is more than aware that Obito has no foul intentions. Convincing everyone else of that is the hard part.

But he doesn’t mind. He’s gotten rather good at ignoring the feeling of eyes on his back since being released from prison. It’s a near constant. So in reality...little will change. It’s not like he has any plans to abuse his powers.

...well...there is one thing he wants to try, but...that won’t harm anyone or anything. Just a little experiment he wants to attempt for technically the second time. But at a smaller scale, and just to entertain an old idea.

No one will even notice.

Once they’re home, they work on lunch together, both of them having been cleared for the day off. While Obito insists that it must be getting close to time for Ryū to start her maternity leave, she’s been stubbornly continuing little jobs and tasks at the hospitals. Nothing like her usual surgeries. Mostly just outpatient monitoring and patrolling the hallways for any patients in need of help. She’s not due for a few weeks yet, and she claims she wants to ‘miss as little as possible’.

So the forced day off is something he can’t complain about.

They take the rest of the day easy, eventually climbing into bed for the night. Obito wraps arms around his wife, breathing in her scent as he pulls her to his chest.

“Sure you’ll be all right tomorrow?” she asks, referring to her needing to get back to work while he has a rare second day off in a row.

“Yeah, gonna just lounge around and enjoy it. Something you should be doing.”

He can feel her eyes roll. “Soon enough. Send Fubuki if you need anything, okay?”

“Will do.”

With that, they settle in for the night, Ryū rising early for another shift and leaving him alone to doze.

By the time he’s fully awake, she’s already long gone.

Sitting up with a grunt, he lets the blankets pool at his waist for a time, considering his options.

...maybe he could…

A hand reaches up and rubs at his chin, considering it. He doesn’t think it’ll go awry...no one seemed to notice the first time he tried it. And even then, he technically wouldn’t be doing anything to anyone else...just himself.

...to hell with it, he’ll try it. Just for a bit.

Rising and dressing, he downs a quick breakfast first. Then he sits atop a cushion in the middle of the sitting room floor. Sharingan spinning, he concentrates his chakra...and then casts the genjutsu.

As before, it takes a good amount...but when he looks around, he doesn’t feel too tired.

And thankfully, he’s alone.

Heaving to his feet, he glances surreptitiously around the little house. It...doesn’t look much different. Not that he really expected it to.

Whether or not anything else is different, as when he first tried it...well, he’ll just have to go out and see.

Peeking out the front door, he finds the street empty, and makes his way out, attempting to look nonchalant. And once out, he makes a beeline for the administrative building.

“Ah, Hokage-sama!”

Jolting a bit, he pauses as a random chūnin smiles and waves at him.

...it worked…!

He grins, giving a wave back and feeling oddly...giddy. It’s a silly notion, but...well, he just wants to try it, just for a little while.

Limited Tsukuyomi went over well enough the first time, even if he failed to catch Naruto (which...turned out to be a good thing). And this time, though smaller in scale, it seems he’s managed to implement the change he wanted.

He’s Godaime Hokage, being named after Minato to take the seat.

Sure, it was a childhood dream, but...well, given he’s at a place in his life where he can take a little time to indulge himself, why not? Just for an hour or two. Just to see what it would have been like.

So the only remaining question is...will everyone be flipped as they were before? It was a mirrored world, everything backwards in regards to personalities, and some once dead still being alive. He’ll have to find someone he knows well enough to tell.

But for now, he continues on toward ‘his’ office, greeting everyone who does so in turn with a smile. He has to admit...it’s a nice change of pace to the usual glowers and nervous glances he gets.

No wonder Naruto got so wrapped up once he realized the Minato and Kushina of the dream world viewed him as their son. It’s a dangerous temptation: what could be.

But Obito knows he won’t fall completely into it.

He has something far better waiting on the other side.

Still, for now, he reaches the proper building and starts climbing the stairs until he reaches the right floor, opening the door that’s usually concealing Kakashi.

Only this time, he...uh...wait, he’s still here?

“Hokage-sama!” Standing at attention beside the door, Kakashi then gives a swift bow.

Obito stares at him for a moment, a bit...weirded out.

At least now he knows the personalities have indeed been mirrored again. There’s no way Kakashi would greet him like that, even if he were Hokage.

“...er...good morning,” he greets a bit stiffly, still processing his friend’s reaction.

“I’ve prepared today’s paperwork for you, and would like to remind you that the Mizukage will be here for that meeting you scheduled early this afternoon. There’s also the roster of jōnin candidates for you to review when you have a moment. And then of course we have the block to assign missions today. The new genin teams will be arriving today.”

...oh. He’s actually going to have to work, is he? “Thanks. Let’s...start with the reviews.” It’s not like his decisions will have lasting impacts - as soon as he closes the genjutsu, this will all cease to exist. Not that it really exists at all, but...well, semantics.

Settling into the chair, he lets Kakashi hand him the folders of the new candidates. He doesn’t recognize any of them...probably all generated solely for the purpose of the genjutsu.

Either way...this is going to take him a while.

All throughout, people walk in for one reason or another. To Kakashi’s credit, he helps redirect anyone unnecessary, allowing Obito to work in relative peace.

Hours later...he realizes how late it’s getting. It’s actually starting to get dark outside…!

He wasn’t going to be in the illusion for this long!

Granted, time doesn’t pass at the same rate - it’ll have been an hour or two at most outside. And given he hasn’t been pulled back out, it’s safe to say no one’s discovered him. He probably just looks like he’s meditating. But he really should think about getting back.

“Anything else for the night?” Kakashi asks, standing dutifully beside the desk.

Sinking in his chair with a sigh, Obito waves a hand. “No, I think we’re done. Go home.”

“Yes, sir.”

Leaning an elbow against the desk, Obito braces a cheek against his fist before an idea strikes him.

“...actually…”

“Yes?”

“Do me a favor, and summon Suigin Ryū to my office.”

Kakashi blinks. “...Suigin Ryū?”

“Yes. Is that a problem?”

“N-no sir, of course not. Right away.” Giving one last bow, Kakashi dips from the room, letting the door snap shut behind him.

...what was that all about…?

Adjusting his posture, Obito sits up straight, arms folded along his desk. He’s curious what Ryū will be like - will she be reversed as everyone else is? Or maybe she’s somehow avoided it due to his subconscious interference.

Because a particular daydream he’s entertained in the past is stuck in his head, and...maybe he’ll have a chance to give it a try.

Gods know it won’t ever happen in real time.

He jolts, however, as someone flickers into the room.

Several feet out from his desk, an ANBU officer kneels, head bowed in respect. A tightly-woven bun of white hair is all he can really see to define them, otherwise garbed in the rank’s usual attire.

“Tōshō, reporting.”

Eyes wide, Obito blinks. Tōshō...frostbite? Is that their codename?

...wait…

“...er…” He’s...not sure what to say.

This is not what he was expecting.

But as his silence drags on, the ANBU looks up, revealing a dragon’s mask. And behind the gaps in the porcelain, Obito can see a pair of silvery eyes, pupils constricted like a cat’s.

Good gods it is Ryū.

“...permission to speak, Hokage-sama?”

“Of...of course.”

At that, her demeanor suddenly changes. She straightens to her feet, gloved hands (tipped with metal claws) urging her mask from her face.

She looks exactly the same, and yet...different. Her air is sharp, cold, and...confident.

“You shouldn’t ask for me so directly,” she then offers, tone soft and yet oddly firm. “Kakashi is already suspicious, Hokage-sama.”

“Sus...suspicious?” He has no idea what she means.

A small, curt sigh escapes her. “It’s not proper. While we are not breaking any laws, it’s still hardly appropriate for a Hokage to be maintaining this kind of...relationship.”

...okay. He’s...not sure what she means, but he also gets the feeling asking would bring up questions he can’t answer.

His awkward silence, however, prompts her to go on. “All of the previous Hokage had proper marriages and courtships. I know I am not a suitable match for you, and my...disposition may not be -”

Before he can stop himself, her denial of her qualities sets him off. “To hell with that, I love you!”

They both jolt - Obito because he realizes he’s just spoken highly out of turn...and Ryū because she clearly wasn’t expecting that.

“...you…?”

Color blooms hotly in Obito’s face. Oh, how to save this… “I...I don’t care about reputations! You...you…” He wilts. “...you mean...so much to me. Regardless of the circumstances. And your disposition isn’t an issue. You are who you are...but I’m still here calling you, aren’t I?”

To his surprise, she gawks at him, and for a moment this cold, disciplined version of his wife looks very much like her soft, uncensored counterpart. It makes him burn with curiosity about her entire backstory to end up like this. A hardened ANBU with none of Ryū’s typical warmth or loving nature. How on earth could that come to be…?

...but it seems there’s still something between them. Just...nothing ‘proper’, in her words. So some kind of...secret relationship? True, an ANBU and the Hokage could be rather compromising, but...

Slowly, her expression settles back into a cool neutral...but tinged with doubt. “...I am an assassin,” she murmurs. “A trained killer, with suppressed emotions and no regrets. I am...hardly a proper partner for a Hokage. If you were to take a wife, I am the furthest candidate to consider.”

“And how many lives do you think I’ve taken, to get this far? All shinobi kill, Ryū.”

“But few do it as well and as coldly as I do.” She lifts her hands, palms up, looking to them in confliction. “...sometimes I wonder if I am...still human…”

“Of course you are.” Obito stands, coming around his desk. This is...a bit unsettling, he won’t lie. “If I had any doubts on that front...you wouldn't be here.”

Her gaze lifts back to his face.

“Never mind what’s proper or not. I certainly don’t.” A hand lifts to cradle her face, and he has to admit...her lack of reaction to it is...odd. To be this blank...is it possible she was caught up in Root…?

The thought nauseates him, given her actual encounter with the band of shinobi. But it would explain her odd coldness and rank.

She sighs. “...the village expects you to settle down. Properly. And you deserve someone warm. Someone who would be a good wife, a good mother. I fear I could be neither of these things, Hokage-sama.”

Okay, this is really weirding him out. Ryū is an excellent wife, and he’s sure she’ll be a phenomenal mother! Hearing her say otherwise bothers him more than he’d think. “Nonsense. And please...call me Obito.”

“...of course, Obito.”

Sighing, he lets his hand drop back to his side. All of his earlier plans now feel...entirely inappropriate. He can’t do this. Not with...not with this Ryū. As much as he adores the real one...he can’t bring himself to feel the same for someone so completely her opposite, even if she looks exactly the same. This isn’t the woman he loves...all the things he loves her for are...are gone.

“...perhaps we best leave this for another night,” he murmurs. “I...didn’t mean to upset you. And I’d best get some rest.”

Nothing is betrayed in her expression, simply declining her head in agreement. “...have a good night, Hoka-...Obito.”

With that, Obito conjures another surge of chakra, breaking the genjutsu as he finds himself seated back in the sitting room. It looks to be early afternoon, a far cry from his initial sitting this morning.

But Ryū isn’t home yet.

The strangeness of the other world leaves him feeling...itchy. Unsettled. Uncomfortable. So much so that he has to get up and start moving lest it overtake him.

In fact, he leaves the house behind, taking a familiar route. And halfway to his destination, he finds her.

Seems she’s coming home a little early.

Relief washes over him in a way he can’t describe, and Obito goes so far as to flicker the rest of the distance.

“Oh -!” Ryū startles as he appears in front of her, clinging to her tightly (but mindful of her belly). “O...Obito? Are you -?”

“I love you so much,” he murmurs in her ear, face tucked into the crook of her neck.

“Obito, what’s wrong?” She can tell he’s clearly upset, carefully bringing hands up to embrace him back. “Did something happen?”

He can’t explain. Not right now. Instead, he starts rambling. “You’re the best wife I could ever ask for. And...you’re going to be the best mother. I’m so lucky that I have you...that I have this family. If I ever lost it...I…”

Prying him off enough to look at his face, Ryū’s own is pinched with worry. “...koi, please...you’re scaring me. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“...I...I used my Sharingan. Made...another world. I’ve done it before: a mirrored world, a test for Mugen Tsukuyomi. I wanted to...to see what it would be like. To live in a world where I became Hokage as I once dreamed. And at first, it was...nice. Everyone recognized me, smiled at me, respected me. But you...you were…” His grip moves to her shoulders, shaking his head. “...you were all wrong…! ANBU, and cold, and...nothing like the real you. It just...it…”

She listens quietly, piecing together the whole story from his jumpy thoughts.

His head bows, and to his surprise, tears bead in his eyes. “...it made me realize how...thankful I need to be. How thankful I haven’t been.”

“Koi, you’ve more than proven what I mean to you! You don’t have to -?” She’s cut off as he hugs her again, staggering back half a step. “...we both know how lucky we are. How blessed. Neither of us take the other for granted, not even for a second. I don’t doubt you. I never could. I’m sorry that...illusion unsettled you so much.” She takes his face in her hands, guiding his brow to rest against her own. Eyes close, trying to convey her feelings. “...I’m right here. And I’m not going anywhere. Ever. You have my word.”

His own eyes still open, Obito flickers them over her face. Her soft, open face that can never hide her intentions or her emotions. He loves that about her...he loves it so much, it hurts…!

“...I’m sorry,” he then croaks. “I...must have really scared you. I just…”

“It’s all right. I’m just glad you’re okay.” She looks back to him, expression full of boundless ardor. “...let’s go home. We’ll take it easy tonight so you can regain your bearings.” She moves, taking his hand in hers and giving it a comforting squeeze. “It’s going to be fine, Obito.”

Swallowing harshly, he nods, letting her pull him back down the road toward home.

“...so, how was it, being the Hokage?” she asks, trying to change the subject.

“...boring,” he admits. “I no longer envy Kakashi. But he was my assistant.”

“Oh? Did he do a good job?”

“He did, actually. Almost too good...it freaked me out how helpful he was.”

That gets her to laugh, spare hand hiding her mouth. “Don’t let him hear you say that, he’ll be offended!”

“It’s true!” Obito insists, a warmth blooming in his chest at her laugh.

...no more genjutsu.

He has everything he could ever want, right here.

     Well, I had a very...different idea for this, but Obito ended up noping out on me xD Which...I can’t really blame him. Seeing your wife-not-wife might ruin any ideas you get when it comes to being alone in the Hokage’s office, huehue.      Anyway, I’m still behind :’D And this weekend looks like it’s gonna be a little busy, so I doubt I’ll catch up fully by tomorrow. BUT I will of course be finishing either way. Just...late, as usual xD But on that note, I’ma go~ Thanks for reading!

#obiryū october #abyssaldespair #uchiha obito #suigin ryū #hatake kakashi #into the abyss [ canon verse ]

[inkstaineddove]

Till We Meet Again

Ships: PruHun; past AusHun

Characters: Prussia, Hungary; mentioned Austria, Germany

Summary: Hungary and Prussia celebrate her divorce to Austria before it happens. The divorce brings the end to the major roadblock in their happiness. Things should be easier once it's over, right? 

October 1918, Budapest.

“You plan on doing what?”      

Prussia felt his body humming with electricity. Ostensibly, this visit was about how the war against Italy was carrying on. Not that it mattered much. They both understood that they were in a race against time, that both of their offenses were collapsing as the American entrance had provided more than enough to keep the Allies going. If it was any other nation, he would’ve called off the meeting and stayed in Berlin.

But it was her. It was always her.

Now Hungary stood staring at him, her green eyes wide and a laugh escaping through her lips. “I’m going to get a divorce.” She laughed again. The prospect of her future alone sending relief shuddering throughout her body. “No matter where the chips fall, I’m not staying married to him a moment longer.”

When was the last time he felt this happy? Before the war began, before he was sent running to-and-fro between eastern and western fronts, before he could never wash the stench of death off his skin. The misery of the last four years fell away in an instant. If this was all Gilbert had to show for the war, goddamn it, he was going to revel in it. This couldn’t be taken away by Alfred and his men or by the renewed spirit of Arthur and Francis on the edge of his border. He couldn’t wipe the stupid grin off his face even if he tried. “Please, Erzsi, you have to let me be there when you tell him.” This was what it must be like to be high. This was the elusive shot of opium he’d been chasing for centuries. “He’ll be crushed. I’ll hide, please, I need to see.”

Erzsébet hesitated for a beat. It was so subtle as to be almost undetectable. Almost because he knew her too well, knew her like he knew himself. “No.” Soft, yet firm. “If you’re there and he figures it out, he’ll think I’m doing this for you. He’ll completely disregard why. I can’t have that.” She shook her hair, a soft veil of hair bouncing in her face. “I need him to know I’m doing this for me. I will not have him think I’m doing this so I can become another man’s property.” Sensing Gilbert’s slight hurt, she came over to him and kissed his cheek. “But I promise, when I tell you how he reacted, I’ll give you every detail. Even act it out if you want.”

It was something. And, really, he understood her reasoning even if meant he missed out. Prussia tilted her head up to him and kissed her softly. The surge of excitement had returned to his body. He was drunk off his giddiness. No more Roderich to interfere, to try and shatter their happiness. She was his and his alone. This was all he ever wanted. A nagging voice taunted him. If this was all he ever wanted then where was she hiding in Poland, in Schleswig-Holstein, in Elsass-Lothringen? He brushed those thoughts aside. Those were the wants of a nation; this – to have her in his arms and know that there was nothing more to come between them – was the want of a man.

Gilbert picked her up in his arms and spun them around, an uncontrollable laugh bellowing from his lips. He bet that, right now, he could soar higher than the eagle on his flag. “I love you so much. Through it all, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He set her down on the sofa and Erzsébet didn’t know whether she was dizzy from the spinning or the joy and adoration rolling off him in waves. He knelt on one knee, kissing her hand. “My heart belongs to you; this is all I’ve ever dreamt about.”

Something gnawed at the back of Hungary’s mind, but she disregarded it. He was an intoxicating presence. She wanted to enjoy this with him and wasn’t she happy for the same reasons as he? Wouldn’t it be nice to no longer have to hide her love for him in the shadows or have their relationship whispered about in every court on the continent? Divorce would gift her freedom, yes, but didn’t it also grant the ability to be as public or private in her affections as she chose? She cradled his cheek in her hand, a warmth spreading throughout her body. “We can be together now. No holds back. I can share my heart and all my love with you.” She felt drunk off her bliss, despite her best intentions to remain composed. She couldn’t stop giggling. “There’s nothing between us now.”

Her lips crashed against his and, driven by instinct, they were wound tightly together. Neither could stop smiling like an idiot. This was fantasy realized, a wish fulfilled.

Gilbert had somehow climbed – or maybe he was pulled? Their movements had been a blur – up on the sofa besides her. Sitting in his lap, her emerald eyes bore into him and he swore he’d never seen her so beautiful. His heart swelled with thoughts of the future teasing him. “Let’s get married. Once it’s finalized and everything.” He couldn’t stop himself. His delight made him vulnerable. “Don’t say we can’t because we can. I’m not trying to annex you. I never want to wake up without you by my side again.”

“What will your brother think if we run off and elope?” She didn’t realize how serious he was being.

“What brother?” He blinked a few times, remembering everyone outside of their little bubble. “Ludwig! He won’t mind, he adores you. You helped me raise him, didn’t you? If you’re worried about his feelings, we can invite him. Bring Feliks too! Bring anyone you want, as long as I get to see you at the altar.”

Realization settled in. Erzsébet couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “I thought you didn’t believe in marriage. Haven’t you always said it’s a broken institution and a waste of money?”

“Wouldn’t you feel the same if your only prospects were your weak little cousins and siblings? Who gets excited about marrying Bavaria or Saxony!” Prussia gagged, displeasure at those proposals by his leaders coming to mind. His expression softened once his gaze settled on her. “You’re the exception. You’ve always been my exception, Erzsi.”

Curse her for having a heart. Curse the damn thing for melting every time he looked at her like a love-sick fool or spoke with such adoration dripping from his voice. Her heart jumped, leaping at the chance for a happily ever after. Her brain sternly refused, logic beginning to reign her back in. “Gil, we can’t. That’s not how our lives are allowed to work.”

He waved that away, having considered it already and finding it to be false. “Sure, if I’m asking you as Hungary. I would never, your people are more trouble than they’re worth.” If anyone else had said that, she would’ve taken it as an insult. Coming from him, Hungary took it as praise and chuckled. “I’m asking you to marry me, Erzsébet. There’s nothing stopping us as individuals. Please.” Her breath caught in her throat. There was an intensity she’d never seen before in his eyes. “You and me, forever.”

Were there any rules against this? There had to be, otherwise every other nation would’ve tried it at some point with their respected partner. She wanted to consult France as this was the kind of thing he would know. But there was a war going on and, unless she felt like braving hails of machine gun fire, she would have to divine the answer for herself. Her heart nagged at her. Why would this be so wrong? A marriage between man and woman had never been outlawed. Didn’t she deserve to be happy? They were each so sure of their feelings, there could be no harm in this. The way he was looking at her, Erzsébet could never remember another man having such devotion in his eyes. “You and me, forever.” A breathy whisper.

An onslaught of kisses until they both were out of breath. “Spain!” Gilbert panted out. “That’s where we can go. Antonio’s great, he won’t run his mouth off to everyone.” He traced his thumb down her jawline, the faintest of smiles on his face. “It can be as private as we want it. I love you, Erzsi.” All he wanted was to repeat those words forever. His love was overwhelming, everyone needed to know. He would stand atop the Brandenburg Gate and yell it to all the passersby, stand in the middle of London Bridge and proclaim it to the Thames, travel to America so even those damn Amis across the sea would know about it.

This was absurd. Erzsébet was living for it. “What about the honeymoon? We’ve already been to Venice together.” That little voice wouldn’t stop talking. It kept growing louder, but she refused to listen. Since when did it ever hurt to indulge?

“I picked where we’re getting married, only fair you pick the honeymoon.” There were no such troubles in Gilbert’s mind. He had never felt stronger. If there were only a line of British and American infantrymen before him now, he’d be able to mow them down within seconds.

“Does everything have to be decided right now?” She pulled him close, her lips brushing against his ears. “I think a celebration is in order.”

Eyes opened wide, hitched breathing. She had such powers over him. “Celebrating. Of course.” A devilish grin. He swept her up in his arms, bridal style, and carried her to the bedroom. Such a momentous event deserved festivities that lasted long into the next morning.

---

February 1919, Budapest.

Gilbert was practically skipping up the steps to Erzsébet’s home, he couldn’t contain himself. On his way over from the train station, he’d dropped by a florist to pick up a brilliant bouquet of yellow and red tulips. “I need to believe that I’d never be caught in this foolish but fond complication.” He was singing in his raspy voice before her door. He kept singing as he entered, the action coming from the heart.

All the racquet caught Hungary off guard. If she hadn’t known better, she never would’ve guessed he lost a war so recently. She sat her book down on the coffee table, trying to hide her surprise at her guest. “What are you doing here, Gil?”

“What do you mean? I sent you a telegram telling you I was coming.” He noticed her incredulous staring at the flowers. He extended them out to her, feeling a blush prickling his cheeks and cursing his pale skin for making his sudden onslaught of nerves so visible. “I picked these up on the way over. It seemed like a nice idea in the moment.” The last time he was this embarrassed giving her a gift was back when they still called him Teuton and she thought she was a boy.

“Right! You did, I’m sorry.” She sniffed them for it gave her something to do. Besides, they were lovely, and it would be rude to not show her appreciation. She winced when Gilbert sat so close to her and winced again when he pulled her in tight against his shoulder.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t as obtuse as she liked to believe. The atmosphere in the room grew even more stifling. “Did I do something wrong?” He tilted her head up to look at him. Erzsébet stubbornly refused to meet his eyes. “What’s bothering you?”

“I didn’t really expect to see you. I figured you would be too busy to visit for some time.” She fixated on a landscape painting behind his head. When had she bought it? “There’s been a lot happening.” It sounded so lame, she knew it, but couldn’t stop herself from digging herself further in her grave.

“When am I not busy? You know I’ve always had time for you and Ludwig. Why would things change now?” His good mood could not be so easily dissuaded. These last four years had been tumultuous and the immediate aftershocks of peace no better. He could understand her unease even if it wasn’t his own.

They sat in delicate silence, both trying to figure out what was wrong with the other. Erzsébet had the skirt of her dress bunched in her hands. “How long do you plan on staying?”

That knocked the wind out of him. “The weekend like we were doing before the war. You’re living here again full-time; I didn’t think this would be such a problem!” Gilbert began a concerted effort in his mind to keep a level head. He was determined to enjoy his time with her, no matter how bizarre her behavior.

“Oh, that’s a long stay.”

Gilbert’s eye twitched. “We’ve been together since the sixteen-hundreds! I’ve stayed here with you for longer! You’ve stayed at my homes for longer!” He caught himself yelling and took a deep breath. In, out. This would be a lovely weekend, goddammit. He tried a different tactic. “What’s bothering you, Liebling?”

Her refusal to look at him fully was irritating. “Nothing at all. I’ve never been better.” She flashed him a smile that was meant to be convincing but came across as deeply unsettling. Seeing his lack of conviction fueled her own frustrations. “Maybe I wanted to spend a weekend by myself, did you consider that? I value my free time.”

“I haven’t seen you since November!”

“Don’t snap at me, you asshole!” She pushed him away with her elbow. Her eyes finally met his, burning with an emotion Gilbert couldn’t quite define.

“You’re the one snapping at me! I just want to know what the hell is wrong with you!” No, Gilbert didn’t want to turn this into a screaming match where neither one of them would win. He rose, needing some distance to collect himself. “What’s got you so mad at me? You’re treating me like I’m Roderich.” He snickered at his own joke until he realized he was the only one laughing.

Her eyes narrowed. “Really? Such maturity, Gilbert. Can you only reach the lowest fruits or are you simply lazy?” Hungary crossed her arms, silently challenging him to go on.

Prussia finally discovered a challenge he could ignore. “It was a stupid joke, I wasn’t thinking. When do I ever think?” Another weak attempt at humor misfiring. He sat before her on the coffee table, taking one of her hands in his. “I’m sorry, I really am. But I’m struggling to figure out what I’ve done wrong this time.” He brought his hand to her lips. “I love you; I want to spend time with you. If that’s a crime, then you should’ve thrown me in jail a long time ago.”

Her expression softened. “You’re right, I’m not being much better.” Erzsébet bit her lip, considering her words carefully. She couldn’t obfuscate for any longer. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking recently.”

“That’s good. Things turn out better for us when you’re the one doing the thinking.” She hated how reassuring that easy smile of his was and the comfort his thumb tracing circles in her palm provided. It was enough to make her almost lose her nerve.

Almost. “’Better’ is probably a subjective term this time around.” She averted her eyes from his face to the floor, studying the ornate patterns of her carpet. It was one of the only artifacts she had of her time with the Turks. “I want to be alone for now. It’ll be good for me.”

“That’s fine. I can stay out of your way for a few hours. I’ll go take a walk. It’ll be nice to see what’s changed.” She shook her head slightly. “Not what you meant, Erzsi?”

She braced for impact. “No. Alone as in we don’t see each other for a while.” A sharp inhale. She forced herself to continue. “A lot happened for me over the last few months. It’s been difficult getting everything set up on my own, both the personal and political. And it wasn’t exactly like the divorce was smooth sailing. There were…a lot of words said.” She tried to keep some excitement from seeping into her voice as she finally had the courage to look him in the eyes. “Besides! I haven’t been on my own in so long, I want to figure out who I am without him standing over my shoulder. I need to know how I feel about everything. Stand on my own feet and see what it all means.”

All pretenses of a wonderful weekend together flew out the window the more she spoke. “You can’t be serious.” He started fidgeting with his hands, nervous energy building up within him. “How do you not know? This is what you, what we, have always wanted! This has been the dream!” His voice grew louder, filling up the room. He began laughing without any humor. “My God. We’re really doing this again.” He stormed up and began pacing the length of the room. “Why are we always having this conversation, for Christ’s sake! What is so fucking hard about figuring this out?”

“Excuse me!” If he wanted to do this, Erzsébet decided, then she was more than happy to go toe-to-toe with him. “I figured you out of everyone else in the world would be able to have a little sympathy for my situation and my emotional wellbeing. I guess if you don’t get what you want then what’s the point in trying to be a good guy?” She folded her arms over her chest, narrowing her eyes in disgust. “You’re all the same.”

“What I want is to be happy with you, but that’s apparently too damn much!” Gilbert ran a hand down his face, trying to rid himself of some frustration. What a nightmare. He should’ve stayed home and listened to Ludwig prattle on about writing a constitution. This was draining. “This is like being back to square one. Help me out here. Would you say this is more like how you were acting when we were kids and you couldn’t admit you had a crush on me or before you got married and wouldn’t admit you were in love with me?” A bitter laugh escaped him. “Why do I like them stubborn? You can be honest with me, Erzsi. If you were only with me to piss Roddy off, it’s fine. I get it but stop wasting my time.” She’d never heard him sound so defeated.

“More like after I got married and wouldn’t admit I love you.” Her attempt at humor only awarded with the faintest of smiles. “Gil, come over here.” Once he obliged, she took his hand and kissed it. “That’s never been the only reason I’ve been with you.” A pause. “Though it certainly helped. Look, I’m not doing this to be cruel, but I’m doing it for myself. I need some time to think about everything – where I’ve been, what I’m going to do next, how to get what I want and be happy. I want to come up with those answers for myself and not come up with the ones that’ll make another person happiest. Even if that person’s you.” He’d never seen her so excited for the future.

“But you promised. You said-” he cut himself off. Finishing the thought felt too childish, too selfish.

“I did, didn’t I? If you promised me the world, it would feel cruel if you yanked it away from me suddenly too. It’s not forever. I just need time.” She kissed his hand again and he felt some life being restored back to him. “But, if you can’t handle waiting any longer, I won’t blame you for walking out that door and never turning back. Though, I would miss you dearly.”

Gilbert knew he was being manipulated. He wasn’t born yesterday. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.” How could he resist? “If it was anyone else, I’d be gone. But it’s you.” It was always her.

Erzsébet smiled, the corners of her mouth reaching her eyes. “You shouldn’t be so nervous. We always find our way back together. You know that better than anyone.” A quick roll of the eyes. “I don’t think we’ll ever be able to get rid of each other this easy.” Overcome, he leaned in to kiss her only to be met with a finger pressed against his lips. Her mood shifted from loving to melancholic in a flash. “Don’t. I want to keep my resolve.”

“I love you.” The words escaped him before he could quash them.

“I know.”

“Oh, dear God. We’re back to that stage too!” Gilbert swallowed back his remaining bitterness. He forced on a smile. “I’m sorry, but you can’t expect me to not be a bit upset over this whole thing.” He looked at his watch. “I should probably head back to the station before there’s no more trains to Berlin. I don’t want to be stuck here all night.”

“You’re here, just sleep over. Don’t be ridiculous.” Hungary rolled her eyes for real this time. Now he really was being overdramatic.

“If I stay, do I have to sleep in the guest room and act as if we’ve only been the closest of friends for the last three, four hundred years?” Her silence was all the answer he needed. Prussia smirked. “Exactly! I’d rather be home, get sloppy drunk, cry my eyes out, and have Ludwig make me breakfast in the afternoon.” Her eyebrows furrowed in worry. “I’m kidding! Not really. Don’t worry about me, I’m an adult I can handle myself.” He leaned in and, realizing he couldn’t go for her lips, kissed her forehead. He lingered there, not wanting to leave her. “Figure everything out soon.”

She watched him gather his things, the familiar ache in her heart. She took in the smell of the flowers, this time appreciating their beauty in full. “Wait, Gil!” His hand hovered above the doorknob. “You’ll see me again before you know it.”

“Another promise so soon?” She could hear his smile and felt it linger in the doorway once he left.

This was for the best, she told herself. For her sake, it would have to be.

#hws prussia #aph prussia #hws hungary #aph hungary #aph fanfiction #aph fanfic #hws fanfic #hws fanfiction #pruhun #hws pruhun #aph pruhun #hetalia #aph #hws #historical hetalia

[babysackville]

Friday 29th October 1824

8 ½

2 25/60

Breakfast at 9 ¾ - From 10 ¼ to 1 ¾ translating from Italian into French ¾ of the letter of “25 Ottobre” page 7 Jacopo Ortis – Mrs Barlow came at 1 ¾ and sat with me till 5  

Sat hand in hand as we always do and flirting as usual at last got on to the subject of myself. Said I was a pickle and sent to school at just seven years old but ordered to have a bed to myself. Said I had had no theory till of late years it was all practice. I had become attached at fourteen, described poor Eliza Raine alluded to my acquaintance with Miss Alexander my being very giddy. Eliza’s getting to know it and the break up of all but friendship. Her acquaintance with Captain A mentioned not his name but that he was a Captain in the Navy. Her unhappiness altogether her present insanity said my own friends never liked her but they knew not how much I was obliged to her, how she had helped me with money &c. &c. for I was not economical and could never make my allowance do. Owned I was very giddy but said her jealousy distracted me and none knew what it was to have a jealous disposition to deal with but those who had tried it. Owned my faults but said how different I should be if I had someone with me whom I could really be attached to, she agreed. Asked if she liked me the worse, no said she, asked if she was angry, no she has no right to be. So she liked me better for my candour, ah thought I to myself, ladies never dislike men, forgave ties well avowed. From my manner of speaking of my friends (always meaning Pi [Mariana]) ah said she tho I have never seen her I think she likes you, praised her proprity said at what arms length she kept me &c &c Mrs B [Barlow] asked if she was happily married, yes, was it a love match, I seemed to doubt it. I had before casually shewn the seal she gave me with the motto ‘a toi pour toujours’ [to you for ever]. 

Well said Mrs Barlow she treats you and behaves very properly but I think she likes you, I said it was impossible she was married, oh no not impossible said Mrs Barlow she asked if she was quite happy, I said she behaves beautifully to her husband, but as for being quite happy, I knew of some of his amours and what was said of him, insinuating that he was not perhaps able to make a woman quite happy. Oh said Mrs Barlow she may not want that, at any rate she can make no comparison, you judge as you would of yourself, she may want no more than friendship. Mrs Barlow still refuses to sit on my knee yet she evidently likes me – 

Sat down to dinner at 5 40/60 Madame de Boyve cold bad – kept her in bed all yesterday – sent my compliments to say I should be glad to pay my respects – almost immediately after diner she sent for me – left the drawing room and went to her at 6 50/60 sat by her bedside till 8 40/60 – Admired her &c &c then talking of my wish to speak French and be with or near to Madame Galvani, she told me it would not do, she thought for Madame Galvani was rather galante. I have often heard her speak of the ingratitude of the two daughters of her friend and it seems it is of this account they never go near her she had told Madame de Bovye she had had an amant [a lover]. Then got on the subject of Mrs Barlow I always try to put them in love with each other but I nerely said tonight Mrs Barlow always spoke well of her but they were such different characters they would never quite suit each other. Madame de Boyve agreed she always felt afraid of annoying her and perhaps Mrs Barlow might feel the same towards her and they might be mutually not at ease, but five or six people had said they did not like Mrs Barlow she had always something satirical encritique to say of every one.

 Madame de Boyve too mentioned some circumstances to prove she set people against her and more than hinted she had preiudiced Mrs Mackenzie, the little I did say was to persuade Madame de Boyve to the contrary but I said not much for I knew she was right and that she preiudice the Macks considerably for I had often to try to talk them out of it. Madame de Boyve declared whenever Mrs Barlow thought of going she would instantly take her at her word among other things. I gave her my word of honour not to mention. She said she always [thinks] everybody in love with her, true enough, Mrs Middleton quite laughed at it had told Madame de Boyve she had refused [Mr Decuissey] but Madame de Boyve did not believe Mrs Barlow had at one time received a Mr Decock an English man perpetually in her room, sat with and walked with him tête-à-tête for hours together perpetually till all the servants began to joke and Mr de Boyve desired Madame to tell her of it for if it was not given up she really must leave the house. 

Madame de Boyve did tell her of it and this was the only thing she ever took well. Madame de Boyve only wished her to receive him in the drawing room. For nine or ten days he did not come, then he was bad as ever again, then luckily he went away. There was another man, a gay Frenchman I forget his name, paid her attention and Mr de Nappe declared to Madame de Boyve this man had slept one night with Mrs Barlow. Madame de Boyve declared it could not be and it was not so, Mr de Nappe declared the man had told him so. Sometime after this the mans servant brought a note to Madame de Boyve undirected beginning ‘ma chere belle’ etc etc asking her to dine at a restauranteurs, go to the play, and then do as her heart directed. Madam de Boyve some how mentioned it to Mrs Barlow who turned crimson. The servant came back for the note, then came the gentleman to say it was meant for Mrs Wyatt who lodged below, even since I came a notorious character, wife to the architect. 

Madame de Boyve said she saw the note was not for her and she did not go on to read it but Mrs Barlow had received attention from this man and tho Madame de Boyve did not believe what Mr de Nappe said, she left me to judge for myself. It has just struck me Mrs Wyatt was so notorious (Mrs Barlow told me the other day Sir Charles Stuart visited her and left his card with his name and ambassadreur dangleterre, how could she know it). Why did not the man direct his billet-doux, he might have done it safely enough – thought I to myself Mr de Nappe has told this to Mr Franks and therefore he said to her as she told he ‘thought she could love very much’- 

I heard but said little or nothing to Madame de Boyve – thought I to myself again her conduct to me had not given the lie to all this. Monsieur de Bellevue whispered to her the other night ‘saint enis touch’ according to the sound meaning sly, a saint in public but not in private, probably he knows all this. She looks so calm and quiet in the drawing room, one would think her the last in the world for this sort of thing – well said I to myself what hands have I got into how [will I] get out again let this be a lesson to me for the future but I have asked her into my room tonight – Went into the drawing room from Madame de B [Boyve] at 8 40/60 talked to Mrs Barlow the the Misses de Sans and Middleton – had tea and came up stairs at 9 35/60 – 

Had a good fire and my hair curled and just done when Mrs Barlow came at ten. Told her I had rattled away to Madame de Boyve admired her, should have been in love with her if I had been a man but would not have married her, would only have married an English woman would not mix the blood - I had given this answer when she told me some thing about marrying a Frenchman, said no never, I was proud of my country loved the little spot where my ancesters had lived for centuries, should inherit from them with pure English blood for five or six centuries and my children should not say I had mixed it. I loved my king and country and compatriotes and would not take my fortune away from them, I should be head of my family and it should remain English still. She admired the nobleness of my sentiments and said England was the first country in the world and when I said I should never marry at all, said she was glad of it, for then I should ner change to my friends, adding but I did not tell Mrs Barlow this, she was not worthy of my friendship. I kissed her kindly on leaving her. 

Well, but Mrs Barlow said I was volage. I sat close to her with hold of her hands as usual looking but not saying much – she got up to go at five minutes before eleven I kept her at the door quarter hour, kissed her throat rather warmly. What are you doing said she and pretend danger being surley a little excited. I begged forgiveness said I could not bear she should think me volage. What had I to call for constancy, could I love whom I did not respect or could I attach myself to good wishes (meaning hers). She said I had told her I could have married Madame de Boyve. I said it was nonsense if you had said it downstairs only I should not have thought of it but you have said it to me, I protested against it, well said she, perhaps you have not been in love, perhaps not attached properly, or at least not for many years, but you say I am romantic, you are volage it is best you should be so, you can not love as I can though. I could have her if I seriously chose it but she would require too much attention and I could never forget this flirting with these men. She was a little excited I think and surely she is conscious of liking me, she knows well enough all about it. What would Pi [Mariana] say to all this if she she knew, I am indeed unable it seems, to take care of myself with women. I am always getting into some scrape with them. If Mrs Barlow did not like me she would not let me talk and do as I do – but no more I shall be in the mire if I don’t take care  

Mrs Barlow left me at 11 10/60 – from then to 1 ½ wrote all the journal of today – rainy day and evening and night – Fahrenheit 66 at 1 ½ pm – letter from my Aunt this morning 3ppages and the ends my aunt calls ‘this her 3[r]d letter since the receipt of mine – my father [is] recovering yet on my return journey scarce perceived he had been ill – all the rest well well – trouble about the servants and about roads – E… O.. – 

(Diary references: SH7MLE80066 & SH7MLE80067)

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